


The Archive and The Archivist

by BrownieFox



Series: of two archives [3]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Archivist Jonathan Sims, Archivist Sasha James, Canon-Typical Worms, Gen, Sasha POV, Season 4 Spoilers, Slow Burn, Spiral-touched Sasha, Tim pov, Time Travel AU, archivist sasha's backstory is the other fic in the series, bc I said so, but 2 archivist for the price of one, but its time travel so they're okay now, but like reveal wise, character deaths referenced, communication? don't know her, elias doesn't know what coming, ep 160 spoilers, evil eye dreams, georgie pov, jon pov, lack of communcation, minor OCs - Freeform, more tags added as we go, sasha has a cat, spicy hints of touch-starved Jon, tunnels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:07:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 64,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25388767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrownieFox/pseuds/BrownieFox
Summary: In which Sasha James, the Archivist of the Magnus Institute, accidentally travels back in time.As does Jonathon Sims, the Archive and the (almost) bringer of the apocalypse.Or: In which The Jon and Sasha of two different timelines both end up in the past with a determination to have a better futrue and a lack good communication skills.Part of a series, but can be read on its own (the other parts mostly provide context for Sasha’s timeline).
Relationships: Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Sasha James/Tim Stoker
Series: of two archives [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1838722
Comments: 316
Kudos: 536





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so, you may have noticed that this is part of a series, and I wanted to say that reading the first fic in the series is not strickly needed for reading this one. It does, however, provide background for how the future went for the Sasha in this story and gives a sense of what happened to Jon there.

For Jonathon Sims, it started with reading a statement that would end the world.

His tongue moved in his mouth, reading the words without pause. He had tried at first to resist reading once he’d gotten started, but some force stronger than him forced him to continue. He wasn’t sure whether it was Elias, or perhaps the Ceaseless Watcher, or some deep and dark part of himself that wanted to keep reading. The words spilled from his mouth, and with them the end of the world as he knew. And he couldn’t stop himself.

But apparently, something else could.

Jon would never know, in the end, what it was that saved the world. 

Had Martin come back early, and heard Jon, and said something Jon didn’t hear and then tried to shove Jon over in an attempt to get him to stop? 

Had Helen, with her ever-conveniently timed doors, managed to open one beneath his feet and send him plummeting?

Had one of the entities themselves realized what was going on, and resisted the change, and dragged Jon away from his old plane of existence?

Jon didn’t know. It could be any of those. It could be none. It could even just be that for all of Elias’ planning, the script he’d written for Jon had been flawed and had had the wrong effect when read out loud by the carefully constructed Archive. 

What Jon does know was that he fell. He plummeted straight through the floor, straight through the earth underneath it, straight through the time and space. And he saw them.

‘Saw’, was not the right word. Jon didn’t see anything, and what they were was incomprehensible to human senses. He would not be able to say whether there were fourteen of them, or if he’d seen the fifteenth and would have been able to confirm the Instinction theory, or if there were thousands of fears simply not fed enough to have grown strong enough to scratch out into the world of men. 

They were… amazing, and beautiful, terrible, and awe inspiring, and fear-inducing, and being in their presence made the very small thing that was Jon feel like… nothing.

And then it was over, and Jon was awake in the middle of the night, lying on the cot in the archives, gasping for air that existed once more, staring at the ceiling, impossibly alive.

oOo

For Sasha James, it ended that first time with the Unknowing.

She hadn’t known who she was, or where she was, or what was going on. There was a man clothed entirely in black whose form shifted like morning mist trying to tell her something, that there was something in her hand (what the hell was a hand?!) and that all she needed to do was push the button, she had to focus, she could do this, she had to do this.

She hadn’t known what ‘this’ was.

There was a yellow door, and a figure walking closer to Sasha utterly clam, utterly in control. They never looked the same for more than a heartbeat. They were a man with holes in his face, a handsome man wearing a backpack, an old woman with wrinkly skin, a lady wearing a hijab and with hardened eyes. 

She touched something with one of her hands (oh,  _ that _ was a hand, that’s right). A black tape recorder that whirred away. It sounded like it was begging her, and as she looked at it she could See, See through the chaos around her, See through the illusions and tricks, and See that the yellow door was still there with Helen waiting on the other side.

Sasha got up and opened the door, hitting the detonator as she ran through.

(Later, she will think it is a combination of several things. A combination of her trying to See the Distortion’s hallways, of the Spiral spilling out of the door and into the middle of the Stranger’s domain, of the Unknowing peaking during that time and then it all coming crashing down.)

(Or maybe it was something else. Who was she to Know?) 

What Sasha does know is that she heard Nikola screaming, and that Sasha was screaming, and Helen was screaming, and the cassette tape whirring and whirring and whirring as it recorded it all, a silent watcher.

And then it was all over, and she was in her bed, faint phantom pains wracking her body.

And she Knows that it wasn’t a nightmare, and in a few minutes she would look at her phone and know that something very very strange had happened. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first return to the archives

It took Jon a moment to get acclimated. 

He couldn’t do much for the first few hours but lay there, looking at the ceiling of the archives with its familiar stains on the ceiling, and tried to get… settled was probably the right word, the best word.

It was still his body, but something about it felt… odd, frail. Not that Jon had ever really had a ‘strong’ body, aches and pains becoming commonplace very early in his life and remaining with him for the rest of his life. And they were still there, that wasn’t what Jon was talking about. There was something else, something a bit deeper, that was suddenly very easy to shatter.

He was also still recovering with his close encounter with fear. He was still panting, breathing for the sake of breathing because air existed again. He tried not to think about what he had witnessed, what he had been thrown into. He had felt it all. He had… he had met the Ceaseless Watcher, as much as one could meet an entity composed entirely of Fear. He wouldn’t have been able to tell someone which of the great abyssal things had been his god - or tell you anything, really, as it had been beyond all human vocabulary to describe - but he had known it had been one of them.

And it had truly Seen him.

The sun didn’t reach the room Jon was in, but he closed his eyes and Knew what the first floor of the Institute looked like right now, of the sun peeked into the blinds, of Rosie getting in, a minute later than usual but she was always so much earlier than everybody else that it didn’t really matter. She sat at her desk and started arranging her desk, going over papers.

It was morning, and he was in the Archives, and the world had not fallen apart. 

With considerable effort, Jon sat up and directed his attention away from the fears, as much as they threatened to consume his every thought for the next ever. 

It was hard to Know things on demand, and Jon was by no means an expert on his own powers, but it was like the Eye was dying to tell him what was going on as it came readily, almost bombarding him.

2015.

It was 2015.

He’d only been the Head Archivist for, what? A week? He was, this body he had found himself in, this time and place he had found himself in, was so new and young. Jon opened his eyes and raised his left hand above his head, turning it over and staring at it. Unblemished. He closed his eyes again, touching his face and not finding the familiar indents, scars left from the worms. 

Jon drew in one more deep breath, holding it in his chest, and let it out slowly slowly slowly.

He had this impossible chance before him. He wasn’t going to blow it. 

Jon the Archive sat up, ready to save the world.

oOo

The first thing Sasha did was Twist. 

As soon as she looked at her clock and saw the date - as impossible as it was - she knew she had to hide. And so Sasha took her surface thoughts, those easily readable and gleaned from the Eye, from Elias, and Twisted them. She imagined that if Elias really tried, he’d probably be able to tear through the illusion, but it made her feel safer. 

The second thing Sasha did was call Tim.

_ “Little early there, aren’t we Sash?”  _

The effect of his voice was immediate. Sasha felt her panicking heartbeat slow down just knowing that he was safe. He sounded tired, like he had just woken up, and it made her smile a big. 

“Tim.” She said, and it was all she could say for a moment.

_ “That’s me.”  _

He sounded so… light. So unburdened. She could almost see him, still in his bed, phone held to his ear and eyes struggling to stay open. It was six in the morning, and they weren’t expected in the archives until eight. He usually slept until seven-thirty and then had to rush out of bed to meet Sasha as she walked by his apartment building, practically throwing himself out of the door and into her waiting arms and she would laugh at his messy hair as he ran a hand through and somehow managed to smooth it enough to be acceptable.

_ “Everything okay, Sash?”  _

All too late Sasha realized that she had been quiet for far too long and worry had crept into Tim’s voice. It made her heart hurt just a bit.

“I’m okay Tim, just though I slept through my alarm.” Sasha said. 

_ “And that meant you’d call me?”  _ Tim said, the worry gone and replaced by amusement.

“I was going to make you distract Jon.” Sasha replied. It wasn’t, well, she didn’t want to call it a lie. It had been a thing, a long time ago and yet in the future. A pact she and Martin and Tim had made to try and keep Jon from getting angry at them for being late. They had even had code-name and several different distractions, most of which involved taking a source of ignition down into the archives with them.

_ “Well, I’m up now. At an absolutely ungodly hour too… do you think Jon is at the institute yet?”  _

“I don’t know, maybe?” Sasha shrugged even if Tim couldn’t see it. She could almost hear the devious grin starting to creep across his face.

_ “C’mon, let’s go.” _

“What?” Sasha wasn’t on the same page as Tim, but he’d already hung up and Sasha looked at her phone screen for a second before sighing, smiling just a bit. Well, that was the thing about Stoker, wasn’t it? He was unpredictable.

Her smile slipped a bit as she remembered the Tim she knew, she had had to become familiar with. The one with few smiles and few jokes that didn’t have a dark and bitter edge to them. He had become predictable in that way, of knowing how he was going to react to finding tapes and seeing other avatars and about the Unknowing. With anger, with anger that burned hot and fierce and scorched all those close to him even if he didn’t mean to.

She had forbidden him from helping with ending the Unknowing, too afraid of losing him to his destructive path of revenge. Even then, she had had to make Martin promise to keep an eyes on him.

She got out of bed a bit slower than she usually did, putting on a favorite shirt that had gotten ruined at some point. She didn’t have a plan, she didn’t know what she was going to do with all the time she now had. She could plan, she could go slow, she could enjoy the company of her friends without worrying about a fight breaking out due to frayed nerves. 

Meeting Tim at his apartment didn’t seem like a bad place to start. 

For once, Tim was waiting for her instead of the other way around. He was well put together for how early in the morning it was, and apparently in the time she’d taken he’d managed to wake up enough to give her a big honest grin.

“Well, Ms. Archivist, shall we?”

“Archivist?” Sasha raised an eyebrow and squashed down the hope (was it really hope?) that this was the Tim she was more familiar with. 

“Well, you got robbed, the position stolen right out from under you, but this morning we are going to be Head Archivist Sasha and her Head Archival Assistant Tim!” Tim declared this and pointed to the sky, as if trying to get his bold plan approved by the Ceaseless Watcher itself. 

“What are you talking about?” Sasha giggled a bit, Tim’s good morning mood easy to catch.

“Okay, so maybe I’m exaggerating a bit, but you’re going to go sit in his office at least.” Tim admitted. 

“Oh.” Sasha said and did her best to smile. 

It was. Well. 

She had never been able to sit in that office, not like it was her own. It felt like it was still haunted by Jon, by Jurgen Leitner, by the expectations from Elias for her to just slip right into the space left by Jon. 

“Don’t worry, I know Jon has a stick up his butt, but even he wouldn’t just fire us just for being caught in his office.” Tim reassured her over the wrong thing. She gave a little nervous laugh and tried now to wring her hands. Instead she took her surface thoughts and Twisted them a bit more, the ‘illusion’ stronger. With that and her hand, dropping to hold Tim’s, she felt safe. 

Time to return to her home. Her prison. Her archives.

They both lived within walking distance from the Institute, closer than Sasha, and it didn’t take them very long to get there. If Tim thought that Sasha was oddly quiet, he didn’t say anything about it. Sasha was content to just walk in almost silence with Tim, enjoying the peace of the morning, the air so crisp. She let herself have the moment, let herself imagine that this was just how life was, that none of the things she’d ever learned about fears and avatars and monsters was real enough to be a threat.

Walking through the doors of the institute was a wakeup call. 

She felt a piercing gaze on her, scrutinizing her, scrutinizing Tim. Had it always been that strong in the early days? She could feel the shiver that must’ve run up Tim’s spine and he looked around, confirming that the force of the gaze was strong enough that Tim felt it as well. 

“Morning!” Rosie smiled at them from the front desk. 

“Morning Rosie.” Tim replied, his voice not letting on if the feeling of being watched had bothered him. He sent a wink to Rosie, who gave a small laugh and waved her hand as if to bat off Tim. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen Jon come in yet, have you?”

“No, haven’t seen anybody but some janitors.” Rosie told them and Tim pumped his fist.

“Thanks Rosie.” 

Tim was still holding Sasha’s hand and led them down the Archive while Sasha did her best to keep herself all Twisted until the Watcher let up, it hadn’t so far, raking over her, trying to really See her. Elias had no right, and Sasha squeezed Tim’s hand just a bit. The thought of letting Elias See so much of her again, of even pretending to let the man think she trusted him, made her blood boil. But now, now she could shield herself from his Eyes, and she was going to make the most of it. However, she also needed to remember to play the long game.

“Archivist Sasha, welcome to your archives.” Tim stepped aside, dipping into a deep bow with one hand out as if displaying the archival assistant rooms to her and, right past them, the office for the Archivist. 

It was the cleanest she had seen the place in years. The organized mess that Martin and Tim and her had created around their desks was just barely starting to form, currently nothing more than a handful of papers each. Considering Gertrude hadn’t really had assistants as much as she had had a few people coming in for a few months and then being replaced again and again in what had seemed like an endless cycle. Of course, it turned out there was an end to it. With her death. 

Jon’s office, on the other hand, was well on its way. Their first tape recorder was sitting there, and she could remember him having to dig through boxes and boxes of Gertrude’s old stuff in order to find it those years ago.

(Friday. He had done that Friday, determined to figure out why the file of a statement he’d been recording kept getting corrupted.)

There were boxes of statements all over, and a cup of tea Martin had brought him Friday that Jon had forgotten to bring back to the kitchenette.

“C’mon, take a seat, Ms. Archivist.” Tim said, seeming to take her quiet for speechlessness. He had his phone out ready to take a picture of her. 

Sasha didn’t know what to say to any of this. It felt like a dream, but she knew (Knew?) that she wasn’t dreaming, that this was real. She was in the past, with a second chance, a second shot at getting this right, with experience and knowledge to back her up. Did she want this job still? Was she still jealous of Jon?

She didn’t know. 

Sasha settled herself into the chair anyway. She looked up, and when Tim with his grin held up his camera, she smiled back, crossing his legs and posing like she wasn’t on the edge of a panic attack.

And then Jon stood in the doorway, and Sasha forgot how to breathe.


	3. Chapter 3

Jon had Watched the two of them as soon as they entered the building, watching their progress through the Institute, down the stairs, to the archives. 

Tim, smiling and content. It felt like decades since Jon had last seen Tim, even longer since he’d last seen Tim so happy, so cheerful. He was holding the woman’s hand, and every-so-often the joined hands would swing a bit between them.

The woman was smiling, although not nearly as widely as Tim was. Jon didn’t recognize her, and that made him study her all the closer. She was probably just the most recent of Tim’s flings. He was known for picking somebody up on the weekends, especially back in their research days. Sometimes on Mondays just like today, Tim would bring them back to the Institute with him, and show them some of the more interesting research he’d been looking into. 

Still, there was something about the woman that made Jon stare at her. He didn’t Know, and he wanted to look closer, but he’d already seen her flinch just a bit when he’d turned his gaze on them and he knew that looking much closer would be too obvious.

He followed them as they went into his office, heard as Tim called her ‘Ms. Archivist’ and encouraged her to sit in Jon’s seat. Jon kept his Eye on them as he stood up from the cot and followed them to the office. 

When he stood in the doorway, once his original set of eyes were looking at them, they both looked up at him and Jon’s heart almost stopped at how Tim’s grin remained just as bright and cheerful when directed towards him. 

“Morning, Jon! In to see the new Archivist?” Tim ribbed him, a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

Jon was saved from having to figure out what the first thing he was going to say to Tim would be by the woman sitting in his chair starting to have what looked like a panic attack.

“Sasha!” Tim yelped and was at her side in a second. One of her hands shot out and grabbed onto Tim’s, squeezing it tightly as she breathed too quickly. For what it was worth, Jon immediately lifted any kind of Gaze he might have had on either of them, both to hopefully help with the woman's panic attack as well as because he was reeling back at the name ‘Sasha’ and could do little more than stare at her.

He wanted to Look at her so much closer, to commit every inch of her face to memory, to erase all of the NotSasha from his mind because she did not deserve to be there, did not deserve to exist where this woman did. Right now, though, it was perhaps not the most flattering time to try and memorize her. Her face was screwed up, eyes shut tight, grip on Tim’s hand only getting tighter to the point it looked painful. Tim was right by her side, solid and stable, brow creased with worry. His eyes looked over at Jon, and it was like Jon remembered that he was in the same room as them.

“Is, uh, can I-” Jon, the Archive, an avatar with the power to doom the world, stumbled over his words, unsure what to do.

“N-no,” Sasha said. The words sounded like it was painful to get out. Her other hand came up and was holding onto the edge of the table as if it and Tim was all that was keeping her there, keeping her from… from what? From something, Jon knew that much, “I just… I just need… a second…”

So Jon stood there awkwardly as Sasha got her heart back under control and Tim rubbed little circles into the back of her hand. Finally, Sasha straightened up from her hunched-over position and then leaned back against the chair, adjusting her glasses but still holding onto Tim’s hand. Tim finally looked away from her and at Sasha, and Jon tensed, ready for the verbal lashing.

“Ms. Archivist, I think you should fire Jon for scaring you.” Tim declared, the corner of his mouth twitching up.

“Y-yes, that seems only fair.” Sasha said. Jon opened his mouth, but still was at a loss for what to say to Sasha. He… he didn’t know her. He wanted to, and he was so relieved, so overjoyed that she was here and alive, but he didn’t know how he used to act around her. 

“Ah, c’mon boss, you know we’re just teasing you.” Tim said, flapping a hand in the air. 

“... you’re here early.” Jon finally said. 

“Needed to see what Sasha would look like in the job she deserved.” Tim replied easily, and ah, there was the bitterness Jon was familiar with. It was light and easy to look over, and Jon imagined that if he wasn’t so familiar with it he wouldn’t have caught it.

_ “Tim!”  _ Sasha hissed and elbowed him in the ribs. 

“No, he’s right, you were more qualified,” Jon admitted. He did know that, at least. That hadn’t been changed, “But I doubt even if we brought it up to Elias he’d swap out Archivists so quickly, so I suppose we’re all stuck where we are.” He didn’t say that he wouldn’t wish the position on his worst enemy, that he wanted to get the others through this in the best condition possible

“I guess so.” Sasha agreed, sighing. 

“W-well, if you’re here, uh, I have work to do. I came here, early, from my apartment, to work early, so if you could get out…” Jon wasn’t able to keep himself from fidgeting with his hands. Tim sighed dramatically.

“Ugh, big boss man just has to ruin all of our fun. Alright Sasha, let’s go sort the Archives into completely arbitrary piles.” Tim said. As he passed Jon, he put a hand on Jon’s shoulder, just for a brief second, and Jon had to stop himself from crying. 

He looked at Sasha as she followed Tim out, and she looked at him with an odd expression. He Looked at her, just a bit, but couldn’t glean what would make her look at him like that. 

“See you during lunch?” She said, hope in her voice. 

“Y-yeah.” Jon stuttered out.

When they were both out of his office, Jon sat down in his chair, placed a hand over his face, and let out a shaky breath, trying to ignore the feeling that he didn’t deserve this.

oOo

Seeing Jon had been a little startling. 

Sasha had known, of course, that Jon would be alive if she was in the past. It was another thing to see him standing there. His hair was shorter than when she’d last seen him, and the bone-deep tiredness he’d worn looked only skin-deep at most, a bad night’s sleep or something. 

The panic attack had been brought on a bit when Sasha felt the Eyes on her get just the slightest bit more intense and she had instinctively Twisted harder and had then had to deal with Twisting too much. And there was also that fact that Sasha was feeling out of her depth with the crazy chance, the miracle she’d been handed. Her last concrete thought of ‘Can you still save Jon?’ was caught in the Twist and played over and over in her mind. Twisted, warped, unending.

It had taken a moment for her to loosen it, and she could almost hear Helen’s laughter echoing in her ears like the first time she had Twisted too far and ended up forgetting the previous week for an hour, the looping of normal thoughts she’d been attempting to project ending up too 'deep' in her head. 

_ ‘You’re thinking too hard about it,’  _ Helen had said, and then giggled as she added,  _ ‘Well, I suppose you’re not doing much thinking now.’  _ Sasha had only been vaguely aware of Tim, holding her close and shouting at Helen, blaming the monster for what Sasha had done of her own volition. 

But she had to learn it. She couldn’t stand to know,  _ to let _ Elias just look into her thoughts so casually. 

After the panic attack, when she and Tim were in the main office, Tim using a pile of statements as a pillow for a quick nap, Sasha carefully Twisted up a looping thought of questions she could possibly have on statements. She knew to be careful, and she didn't feel safe without the Twist, even as she realized that while she did feel like she was being Watched, it wasn’t nearly at the intensity that she had felt it before going into Jon’s office. Well, Jon was here now, so Elias had probably decided he was more interested in him than in the two canon-fodder assistants. 

She wished she could be the Archivist, still. Sasha reasoned it was because she knew about the job. She could take it. Jon had already shown ‘last time’ that he couldn’t take the stress. 

Martin came in eventually, looking surprised to see them there already. Tim stayed asleep but Sasha greeted him and followed him to the kitchenette to help him with the tea. He greeted her kindly, but nervously, a reminder that here, she and him were still getting to know each other. 

Sasha helped him carry the cups back to the office, and she and Tim shared a look as Martin nervously approached Jon’s door, raising his hand to knock. Martin’s crush wasn’t a well-hidden secret. 

Before Martin could knock, however, Jon opened the door quickly. 

“Good, you’re all here.” He said, eyes darting between the three of them. He stepped farther into the main office, and Sasha could see he was holding the tape recorder in his hand. 

“I, uh, I got you some tea.” Martin said, offering the cup out to Jon. Jon looked surprised, looking down at the cup for just barely long enough for it to feel awkward.

“Yes, you, uh, you did. Thank you, Martin.” Jon coughed, accepting the cup, and Tim and Sasha shared another look. Last week, Jon had made his distaste for Martin rather clear. Martin himself seemed taken aback as well, blinking in surprise. Jon wasn’t looking Martin in the eye, and with his cup of tea walked back into his office and shut the door behind him. Martin stayed where he was, still seeming to process what had just happened. 

“Hey, boss, did you need something?” Tim called after him. 

The door to the office slammed open again, Jon still holding the tape recorder. 

“I need you to record.” Jon announced.

“Record… statements?” Sasha asked.

“So Sasha  _ is  _ the Archivist then?” Tim asked with a grin.

“Not statements, no.” Jon shook his head, “I just need to make sure all of your know how to use the tape recorder, in case I ever need you to.”

“Hey, real quick Jon, how old do you think we are?” Tim raised his hand, “I don’t know about all of you guys, but my family definitely had cassettes. I think I can use a tape recorder.” Sasha and Martin both nodded their agreement.

“Well, I need to make sure you all know how to use this one.” Jon insisted, sounded just the slightest bit annoyed and finally a bit more like himself, or at least like Before Prentiss Jon. “It doesn’t matter what you record. I just need something from each of you.” He put it down on Sasha’s desk and then retreated back into his office. Tim raised his eyebrows while Sasha lifted the recorder, rewinding it and hitting play to find that the tape was indeed a new and blank one. 

“... I’ll go ahead and go first?” Martin volunteered, finally moving from where he’d been standing in front of the office to take the recorder from Sasha. “Where should, I, uh-”

“Just do it in here.” Tim said.

Sasha watched as Martin got himself situated at his desk and then, blushing slightly, pulled out a page of what Sasha knew must be his poetry.

But she wasn’t focused on that. 

She was too busy thinking about the fact that Jon hadn’t done this last time, and she didn’t know what it meant that he was having them do it this time. 

The feeling of being watched set in again.


	4. Chapter 4

The first week ‘back’ wasn’t an eventful as Sasha had thought it would be.

Not that she used to commonly think about what she would do if she could travel back in time. She was more of the type to look to the future and not dwell too much on the past. Now, though, thinking about the future  _ is  _ thinking about the past. She had never been one to play the ‘what if’ game, and now she was sorely regretting it. 

She’d written down everything she can remember. Jane Prentiss, The Unknowing, the tunnels, Helen and Michael, Gerard and the hunters, important looking files and statements that had been left in Jon’s desk when he’d left. It was an almost painfully short list, and for most certainly not the first time and what wouldn’t be the last, she wished she could talk to Jon, her Jon that had gone missing in the future, and ask him how much he had already known, if he had been chasing Gerard in America or had been looking for something else. 

Sasha was also trying to adjust back to the past, as well as the odd changes that hadn’t been there before.

The biggest change so far was Jon. She had to assume that her and Tim being there so early on Monday morning must have been the big tipping point, but exactly why that was, Sasha couldn’t say. One thing for sure, though, was that he didn’t act like the Jon she had known.

Every morning started the same. He always arrived in the main office just after the last of the three assistants had walked in. The skin-deep tiredness he’d started with looked like it was getting worse every morning, dark circles appearing underneath his eyes and a painful stiffness to his walk. Had she just not noticed the first time, how draining being the Archivist had been for Jon? She knew that eventually Elias had decided that Jon wasn’t fit for his grand evil schemes, and maybe she had missed these first signs. 

He always said ‘good morning’ to all of them and didn’t enter his office until they’d all replied in kind. And then he went into his office and stayed there for a differing amount of time. Sometimes, he’d only come out around lunch time, and even then only reluctantly as he ate a sandwich and listened to Sasha and Tim banter, responding in only a few words when the same teasing was directed towards him. Other days, Jon would come back out after thirty or so minutes and talk to them, which Tim had made clear wasn’t something Jon had seemed inclined to do much with coworkers back in Research. And certainly, just like the Jon Sasha knew, he wasn’t very good at conversations. Jon either talked too much about a subject or contributed too little, but Tim seemed to have a rhythm down for it, and Martin seemed to slowly be catching on, and Sasha herself was getting used to this new, slightly more chatty Jon. 

He kept his door open a crack where, if memory served, he used to keep it closed constantly. Anything they said out in the main office, Jon could hear in his private one, and they could sometimes hear the vague mumbles of Jon to himself through that crack as well as already doing two statements in only his second week. Impressive, and Sasha was willing to bet Jon was going to get burnt out from it. It wasn’t like she could warn him, though, that the physical toll of statements was real and not his imagination. No, to tell him would be to risk letting Elias see her cards, and she couldn’t afford that. 

She’d also heard Jon calling the budgeting offices and was already asking for extra fire extinguishers and an update to the sprinkler system, which had caught Sasha’s attention immediately. When she’d asked him about it, he had replied honestly that he was afraid of a source of ignition getting into the archives, and that it was better safe than sorry. Not that Sasha was going to argue, but she had to admit that it was a little spooky, like he’d known what she’d been thinking. But, of course, there was no way he was that far along with his connection to the Beholding yet.

She wanted to get to know him better this time.

She was going to get close to him, and save him from his own paranoia, and keep him from dying. 

And then, on Friday, Elias went down to the Archives.

He came into the office with that smile on his face, the smile that seemed cold and cordial but now all Sasha could see was how sinister it could turn. His eyes looked over the three archival assistants like he was sizing them up and it took everything in Sasha not to get up and deck him then and there. Sure, they couldn’t kill him, but surely they could do some serious damage. If she could get him into a coma, it would be worth it to pay the medical bills and keep him on life support while knowing that there was no more harm and betrayal he could bring them.

Instead of doing that, Sasha made sure her surface thoughts were Twisted and smiled at Elias in a way she hoped came off as nervous and kind and not like the baring of teeth she wanted. 

“Hello,” Elias said, sounding cool and controlled and just as terrible as ever, “I just thought I’d pop down here and see how all four of you are settling in. I understand that Gertrude was not the most, shall we say, concerned with an organization as I would have liked, but I’m sure you are all doing your best to get things sorted out.” 

“It’s, it’s going alright.” Martin said in a small voice, eyes trained on the mug on his desk.

“‘Lot less research and ‘lot more sorting than I thought there’d be.” Tim admitted, and Sasha knew he was leaving his feet kicked up on the desk just to see if Elias would do anything. Anybody who’d worked at the Institute knew that the Archival Team always seemed to get a little more leeway as far as rules went. Tim wasn’t doing it just to spite Elias, not yet at least.

“Things have been going well.” Sasha said and didn’t dare to say more, her heart beating in her chest and wondering if her Twist was enough but resisting the urge to Twist more while her thoughts weren’t under control, when something could slip in and make her spin into a panic attack again. So Sasha would just have to live with what she had and hope that Elias kept his focus on Jon and not on her.

Jon’s door had been ajar, as usual, and now he stood in the doorway. He was holding the cup of tea that Martin had brought him this morning, and he was unreadable as he stared at their boss.

“Elias.” Jon said, and Sasha couldn’t help the shiver that ran up her spine. She had gotten so used to the Jon who was, while maybe not exactly  _ warm  _ to them, wasn’t this ice cold. There was something very dark in Jon’s eyes as he stared at Elias.

“Ah, Jon, I was just coming down to-”

“Yes, I heard you.” Jon interrupted Elias. The air in the archives was stifling and thick, heavy and oppressive as Jon and Elias just stared at each other. Sasha looked over to see that Tim and Martin were clearly finding it just as awful to be in the middle of as her. Finally Jon sighed, as if this was just a nuisance, and took a sip of Martin’s tea that must have been cold at that point, “Well, let’s get this over with.”

Elias went into Jon’s office.

When he came out, he looked thoughtful. And Jon? Jon looked like Tim had upon hearing about the Unknowing. Like he was preparing for war.

That was when Sasha first started to suspect.

oOo

There were things to adjust to, being back in the early days of the archives. 

Jon was still trying to figure out what was the best line to walk between fixing every problem they’d ever encountered and being so passive that everything played out the same as last time.

In a perfect world, yes, Jon would swoop in and tell everybody that he was from the future, and he’d seen horrors they’d only ever read about, and then they’d all run up to Elias office and beat the shit out of him as a very much alive team. But Jon was very aware that perfect worlds didn’t exist, and if they did it would not be one that he was in. He knew what Elias’ current plan was, and he couldn’t risk Elias finding out that he knew and changing it, or deciding that it was best to just start over and scap Jon and his whole team. Especially when considering that, as far as Elias knew, Jon didn’t have many marks from the fears. Jon himself might not be a pawn worth keeping yet. 

Did Jon have any marks? He certainly didn’t have his scars anymore, but he could remember all of the things that had happened to him, and he seemed to have some degree of his power still. Watching people was easy, Knowing things much less so. Well, Jon had no plans to reaccumulate the marks, and until he found a better system he was making sure to only read statements that he’d read ‘last time’ and skimming them first to make sure that Elias hadn’t slipped in the words that would doom the world. 

Which, on the note of statements, Jon was starving. He hadn’t taken any in-person statements since he got back, and… it didn’t suck as much as he thought it would? His powers seemed weaker, as well as his dependency on statements. Jon had a pretty good idea it had to do with the frail feeling he'd had since Monday and had persisted throughout the week. He wondered if he tried to cut his fingers now whether or not they would stay off. He figured best not to test (even if some part of him wanted to). 

Of course, just because he wasn’t as dependent on statements as he had been before didn’t mean that Jon didn’t still want them, _need_ them. He’d read the first statement early on in the week and then had tried to hold off. Reading more than one statement would be too telling, too obvious. But then on thursday he broke down and cracked another one open, longing for Daisy’s safehouse where even without fresh statements he could have his fill of old ones. He hated how refreshing he found the fear of the statement as he read it out loud. He hated how much it made him long for an in-person statement. 

(He wondered how long it would take before the written statements weren’t enough again.)

Jon had already started trying to make some changes around the archives. The most important was the fire extinguishers, and while he didn’t have enough to feel safe yet, he had more than the single expired one that had been collecting dust in a corner of the archives. Convincing the budgeting office that changing the sprinkler system was a good idea, however, was going to take a bit more work, but Jon was nothing if not persistent. He’d also thrown as many Prentiss-related cases he could find as far back in the archives as he could, where they would hopefully never see the light of day. If things went well, maybe all of his planning for the attack wouldn't matter if Martin never gets trapped by Prentiss to begin with.

There was also getting to know his coworkers all over again. He still flinched when Tim looked at him, ready to be berated. Whenever he looked at Martin, he found himself looking fondly at the man and having to stop himself, reminding himself that this Martin didn’t know him yet and that Jon hadn’t made the best first impression. But second impressions… yes, Jon could do that. Sasha was by far the hardest one to interact with, because where with Tim and Martin he knew where to start, where to tread lightly, where to be careful, where to catch himself slipping up, Sasha was an enigma. 

And then, of course, there was Friday. 

Jon had felt Elias coming. He had felt Elias Watching Jon as the man made his descent from his office and down into the archives and Jon felt his blood boiling in his veins. Not literally, of course, he wasn’t an avatar of the desolation or anything. But he felt the man who had ruined his life, had ruined his assistants lives, had ruined the lives of the entire world, and he had to keep himself from running out, seeing red, and killing Elias right then and there. Both because he had no weapon (note: Jon needed to get weapons for the office) and because he’d doom the entire Institute with him. Jon would be fine if it was only him who died, but Martin and Tim and Sasha were out there and he couldn’t let them die, not again. 

When his head was finally some-what clear again, Jon stood, taking comfort in the feeling of the cup of half-finished tea that Martin had brought him in his hand, and opened his door.

God, looking at Elias’ face was somehow even worse than feeling the asshole’s Eyes on him. Actually, no, the Eyes were worse, but you couldn't punch the Watcher and you could punch Elias. Jon held himself back again.

“Elias.” Jon said, hoping he came across as professional, as not like he was in the middle of almost plotting murder.

“Ah, Jon, I was just coming to-”

“Yes, I heard you.” Jon cut him off. Listening to  _ Elias’ voice  _ was actually worse than looking at his face. Jon was reminded of how Elias had hijacked him, had stolen Jon’s voice from him less than a week ago, had used Jon. Elias looked back at Jon and Looked at Jon and didn’t back down, daring to Look, just a bit, just enough, at Elias. Jon didn’t flinch under the weight of Elias’ power. What was it when compared to Forever Deep Below Creation? What was it compared to the chill of the Forsaken? Jon could keep this up for as long as he had to.

He could, if Jon wanted Elias to see all of his cards.

Jon sighed and took a sip of his cold tea, now more bitter than usual.

“Well, let’s get this over with.”

Elias walked into Jon’s office, and the intensity of Elias’ Watching grew. Jon took his seat and Elias took the one across from him, and he studied Jon’s face with the two eyes on his face while he tried to poke beneath Jon’s surface. 

“How have you been settling in, Jon? Gertrude was not known for her organization, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. Last week you mentioned having trouble with recordings?” Elias asked, and there was a hint of honesty in his voice, as if he were really interested in Jon’s plans for filing systems. 

“Yes, that problem has been solved. Tape recorders.” Jon gestured to the one on his desk. Which was currently recording. Elias raised his eyebrows at it, but didn’t comment, and Jon was glad. Well, it looked like the whole ‘recorders appearing and recording on their own’ was still a thing. Jon had had his theories the past few days, but apparently this was the first thing that had been ‘interesting’ enough for the tapes to appear and record for. 

“Good. And how have the statements themselves been going?” Elias asked, head cocking to the side.

“I read two this week.” Jon said. He could more feel than see, more Knew than knew, that that had surprised Elias. 

“Really? Already going ahead with your digitization so fast?” Elias said and the intensity increased as Elias tried to Know more about Jon and Jon couldn’t stop himself in time. 

Jon stood up and Stared at Elias, Looked at Elias hard enough to match the other’s intensity, to rival it. Oh, if he had done this months ago, years ago, a world ago. He Knew that Elias was Jonah, and he Knew what the Archivist really was, and why Elias had chosen Jon, and that Elias was already sizing Jon up like cattle being raised for the slaughter. And Jon also Knew he’d caught Elias by surprise with his sudden display of power that Jon should not even be close to having yet.

Elias narrowed his eyes at Jon, standing up as well. 

“... who are you?” Elias asked, all attempts to conceal his curiosity fading.

“You know who I am. Don’t you remember appointing me to this?” Jon found himself saying, “I am the Archivist, Elias.”

“Who are you?” Elias asked again, and Jon could practically taste the compulsion as it rang through his head, felt like it was vibrating the back of his teeth. It was just words, though, not a written statement Jon had already become entrapped in, and though it was a struggle Jon still managed to brush it off.

“I am the Archivist.” Jon repeated and refused to say more. 

“No, I don’t think you are.” Elias said. “I look forward to finding out exactly what you are, though.”

“Get out of my office.” Jon demanded. 

“No need to be so rude, Jon. I’ll be on my way. Make sure you if you make any changes to your filing system, you get them approved by me first.” Elias smiled.

Elias’ Eyes set upon Jon, and Jon pushed it all away. No, he was done with this now that Elias already knew that Jon had some power behind him, if not exactly how much. He was not going to let his archives be filled with the gaze of another. Elias seemed almost delighted by it.

Elias left Jon’s office, and Jon followed him and stood in the door, Watching him until he was above ground again.

Well. Jon had certainly secured his place in the archives now. 


	5. Chapter 5

“Jon’s been weird, right?”

Sasha had her feet propped up on the break room table, and Martin nudged them off so that her shoes weren’t near his food while he was eating. Today had been one of the rare times when Jon hadn’t left his room after getting in that morning. They could hear him muttering to himself, and he’d accepted Martin’s cup of tea with a smile that clearly hadn’t lasted long, since he’d started up the muttering again.

“I mean, he’s weird compared to our research days, sure,” Tim conceded, “and he had a real stick up his ass that first week, but I guess he just needed a weekend to decompress or something.” Tim said it with a shrug of his shoulders. Sasha did her best not to sigh.

“He’s actually been kind of… nice?” Martin said the word nice a little sheepishly, as if he was expecting the concept of it to be yanked away from him. 

“Back in Research, he wasn’t rude either,” Tim defended Jon, “Just not… friendly.” 

Sasha couldn’t stop herself from sighing this time as she leaned her head on her hand. She wanted to say ‘but he’s different from how I know him’, but she shouldn’t know him. Or at least, she wasn’t supposed to know him. She wasn’t supposed to know how he’d sneer a bit at Martin whenever the man tried to offer him a cup of tea. She wasn’t supposed to know that he never left his office because his feet always hurt. She wasn’t supposed to know that he occasionally slept in the Archives. 

But now, Sasha was faced with a Jon who smiled at every cup of tea Martin brought, each of which he insisted were perfect. A Jon who seemed to make an effort to leave his office and say something to them at least once a day, even if it meant he ended up going on and on about some random subject he knew far too much about. A Jon who, Sasha greatly suspected, didn’t just sleep occasionally in the Archives, but may just stay there every night. She’d never seen him leave or enter the institute. 

“Yeah, I guess.” Sasha said noncommittally. 

“Are you going to record another statement?” Tim asked, thankfully changing the subject for her. She’d ask again, later. Tim had to know that there was something odd about Jon, right? It couldn't just be her.

“... yeah.” Sasha admitted. She had meant to keep her statement reading to herself, doing it only when Jon was doing his own and hiding in one of the archive rooms, in the back with old statements. That had lasted all of two days before both Tim and Martin had walked in to see her reading a statement out loud and to herself. She hadn’t wanted to stop in the middle of it, and Tim had spent the duration throwing bits of paper at her and trying to make her mess up. 

She had started to explain that she just wanted to do some personal study and such, but Tim had barely listened, already on board for Sasha being a secret second archivist. Martin had been a bit more unsure about it, saying that they should run the idea Elias and Jon first, but Tim had insisted it’d be fine. Afterall, what was the worst that could happen from reading spooky stories? A nightmare or two at most?

Sasha didn’t say anything to that. She didn’t want to lie to Tim more than she already was.

“Alright, I’ll guard the door. If you hear Jon shouting at me to put him down, ignore it, you just keep on recording.” Tim assured her and she smiled at that. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t, uh, man-handle our boss?” Martin suggested. Tim put his hand to his chin and nodded like he was thinking it over.

“Yes, yes, I think you’re right. We should have _you_ step in and pick Jon up if it comes to that.” Tim ‘agreed’ and Martin almost choked on the sandwich he’d been eating.

“Wh-wh-”

“Yes, I can see that. Martin, picking Jon up in his big old arms, holding him close, their faces so _close together.”_ Sasha added with a little giggle and watching as Martin’s face became completely red. He continued to make spluttering sounds as he tried to defend himself. Thing along the lines of ‘I’d never have a crush on my boss’ and ‘I haven’t written poetry about him’ or even ‘I don’t know who Jon even is’ which got Tim laughing hard enough he almost fell out of his chair. 

Once lunch was done, Sasha prepared to read her statement, but first made sure that Jon was recording his own. He usually did it at the same time of day, as well as having the same days that he recorded each week: Monday and Thursday. Yep, Jon was still doing two statements a week. He did look pretty rough, which was to be expected with the rate he went through statements, but it was also one of the things Sasha kept in her list of ‘weird things about Jon Sims’. Which wasn’t a physical list, because she didn’t want anybody to see that and think that she was becoming paranoid and starting to think of crazy conspiracies that involved her coworkers.

It wasn’t crazy if it was true, but she also wasn’t the Jon she knew. She wasn’t paranoid. She was just… trying to be careful.

Sure enough, as Sasha stood right outside Jon’s office, she could hear him pre-reading the statement, mumbling it to himself. He always had one of them read through it in its entirety first (not out loud, of course, just a sort of proofread) and hand it to him right away, and then he himself would skim it. Sasha wasn’t sure what he expected to find, maybe it was just his ‘method’, but it still hit her as odd. 

Sasha nodded to Tim and Martin. Martin nodded back and Tim sent her thumbs up as she left to one of the archive rooms. As she sat down in her usual spot - far enough in and behind enough shelves that even if Jon did come in, she could easily stop reading and pretend she was looking for statements - she felt the last of the already-weakening Eyes on her lift completley. To a certain degree, she was used to the passive Watching that being in the institute brough. What was really odd, however, was that the feeling of it changed ever-so-slightly when she entered the Archives, and then lifted entirely when Jon was reading a statement. 

She had yet to decide whether she thought it was Jon watching her or something that turned all of its attention to Jon was he was recording. 

Either way, Sasha was relieved to no longer be under the scrutiny of something. As she moved some of the old statements out of the way so she could sit down, her eyebrows lifted up as she saw one was an account related to Jane Prentiss. While she wasn’t exactly excited by the idea of being attacked by Jane Prentiss again, it had served as a wake-up call to what the real world held first hand, as well as a ritual they’d managed to put an end to. At any rate, Sasha had been picking up any Prentiss-related statements she found and hoarding them so that, if it came to that, they’d be able to read them and prepare. 

Sasha tucked the statement behind the one she was holding, hit play on the recorder, and cleared her throat.

“Statement of Percy Chase, regarding a summer camp and the subsequent loss of his mother.”

oOo

Jon was getting stronger. 

It was like he was settling into his body, finally getting comfortable over the past month. Not that Jon was entirely sure that was a good thing, but there were certain elements that were positive. Such as the fact that he had more or less stolen the archives right out from under Elias. When Jon was in the archives, so long as there weren’t any pictures with eyes in them, Elias couldn’t see down there. It was Jon’s domain now. 

The downside, of course, was that only two statements a week was starting to take its toll. He supposed he could start reading more since keeping Elias from knowing something was up had ended up being a complete and utter bust when actually confronting Elias face-to-face. Still, Jon was trying to hold off on picking up a third per week. Even though the archives was his domain, sometimes he had the feeling that something else was still watching him. Every time he tried to See what it was, all he ended up Seeing was the assistant’s office. Whatever was spying on him - if there was something spying on him and not his own imagination playing tricks on him - he didn’t want to give it the satisfaction of knowing he was too weak to live with only two statements.

Today’s statement was one he hadn’t read before. It was old and dusty, but much more satisfying than rereading one he'd read 'last time'. Jon sat back when he was done recording, the recorder turning off on its own, and feeling, while not entirely satisfied, definitely better than he had felt before. It had been a rough start to the morning, aches and pains running through his very-human body, and he hadn’t wanted to leave his room all day. As it was, it had taken everything in him to just get to the institute that morning. 

“Uh, Jon?” Martin knocked on the office door and Jon jumped, realizing he’d had yet to turn his Attention back to his archives and doing just that. Martin was in front of his door, Tim was jotting down some research notes, and Sasha was coming out of one of the archive rooms with some new statements she was probably going to recommend to him. 

“Yes, Martin?” Jon replied and Martin pushed the door open. He looked nervous, but Jon couldn’t help the small smile that crossed his face at seeing the man. Maybe this wasn’t the same Martin that Jon had known, and with any hope it never would be, but Jon had found he rather liked getting to know Martin this time around. 

“Sasha, Tim, and I were thinking about going out for drinks today. Did you- well, I mean if you don’t-” Martin floundered around for the right word. Jon Knew that Martin was mentally berating himself for making such a sad display in front of Jon, but Jon couldn’t help but to find it a bit endearing. Still, no reason to let Martin flail.

“I don’t drink much these days.” Jon said, which was true. Mostly because he’d gotten drunk a bit too much and too often in college, but he’d also found his appetite leaving him with increasing frequency. He could eat and drink, but the need for it was already waning once more. 

“You don’t have to!” Martin quickly added, “But if you came, again, you don’t, I don’t want to pressure you-”

And Jon sighed with a smile.

“Sure, I’ll come tonight. I don’t know how long I’ll stick around, there’s still a lot of work I need to do, but I can come.” Jon relented. Martin grinned, and then bit down on the grin, and then the grin broke through his best efforts to keep it down. Which, of course, made Jon grin right back at him. 

oOo

As they sat at a booth, all with their own drinks in front of them, it occurred to Sasha that this was the first time she had seen Jon outside of work since the promotion. Well, there had been that first Tuesday, when Tim had insisted they all go out for a drink just like tonight. Jon had barely touched his the entire time, which Tim had ended up stealing from him at one point during the night anyway. That night had ended in a blur, but she did know that Tim, Martin, and herself had woken up at Jon’s flat. He had apparently led them there as he didn’t know where any of them lived. He had then made it clear that as soon as they were awake they were to get out and go to their own flats and that he still expected them to be into work on time. 

This time, there was less tension in the air. Jon was smiling, no longer shooting glares at Martin every chance he got. Martin was sitting right next to Jon, and the red blush of being so close had faded at some point as he talked with Jon about a book they’d both read before. Tim was a couple drinks in and talking to Sasha in length about the dogs he wanted to adopt once he found a good flat that allowed pets. 

And Sasha was happy. 

There was still a sort of Gaze that was looking at their group, but it wasn’t oppressive or overbearing. She’d almost say it felt… comforting, but she also didn’t dare assign such an altruistic word to a power that came from eldritch fear gods. 

This was what she had always wanted. Even that first year, before everything had gone to hell in a handbasket, Jon had been too closed off to allow for such closeness as was being developed right here, right now. The closest they’d ever come was Martin’s birthday party, when Martin had listened to Jon talk about emulsifiers with a love-sick look on his face that Jon had somehow missed entirely. 

“When I was little, I used to have a dog. He was black and his ear was always flipped inside-out. But then the divorce happened, and my parents couldn’t decide who got the job, so they sold him. On my birthday.” Tim continued. Sasha nodded along.

“Yes, I remember Soot,” Sasha said, smiling and moving the conversation along before a drunk Tim started thinking about his brother, “If you want, you can come over to my house later. Sneaks misses you.” She wasn’t even lying when she said Sneaks missed Tim. He always yowled when Sasha got home in what she sometimes thought was disappointment that Tim wasn’t with her. Or he was just hungry. 

“Sneaks?” Jon repeated, looking over at her.

“You know, my cat.” Sasha said dismissively. Jon’s brow scrunched up.

“You have a cat?” He asked. 

“Yes, Sneakers, I brought him to Research once?” Sasha bit her lip. 

“Oh, yes, yes, I remember now.” Jon said, quickly returning to his conversation with Martin, but Sasha Knew that no, Jon didn’t remember. But Jon should know Sneaks. Sasha had brought him on a dare from Tim and then lost him, only to be found later purring loudly in Jon’s lap. Sasha still had the picture of it on her phone. 

Jon used to ask Tim to get pictures of Sneaks from Sasha. 

He should know Sneaks. 

Sasha added another entry to her mental list.


	6. Chapter 6

It took a lot of willpower for Jon to keep himself from just living in the archives. 

In the early days, he had always slept there when he pulled late-nights that had almost always turned into all-nights, letting himself sleep in by no longer having to worry about a commute. Then, when he came back to work after his ‘extended stay’ at Georgie’s trying to avoid the police, he’d essentially moved in there, living on the spare cot and sometimes not leaving for weeks at a time. Martin always brought him some food. And after Jon died and then came back alive, it was unsafe to  _ not  _ live in the archives. 

This was all to say, the archives were more like home than Jon had had in awhile.

Still, he told himself that he didn’t want to be a hermit this time, and he definitely didn’t want his assistants finding out he was living there, and the best way to do that was to not live in the archives, but still waste money paying for an apartment he at most slept and ate a couple meals in.

Some of his logic, of not seeming like a hermit, was lost a bit considering how he got to work. 

There was no way that Jon was going to just walk around in London, where just any fear-aligned being could see and attack him! Not when Jon had already been kidnapped far too many times for his walking. So, of course, the easiest way to get to the institute was through the tunnels. No fear seemed able to get a decent hold on them with the exception of perhaps the Spiral, and there was no risk of Jon being caught by somebody.

_ ‘Well, that wasn’t entirely true’ _ , Jon thought to himself as he came across an empty bag of chips on his walk today, it crinkling noisily underfoot. He paused and picked it up, losing it into his shoulder bag to throw away when he got to work.

He hadn’t yet tried to find Leitner during the past couple months, and he still didn’t feel any need to. Let the miserable old man wallow in the walls. Jon had only tried anything close to a connection once, when he’d tried to get to work and found the path had changed. He’d left a note, requesting that the path remain as clear-cut as possible. He didn’t get a reply, exactly, but the route didn’t vary much anymore. 

Which, on boring mornings, didn’t really seem like such a good thing anymore, but Jon had to remind himself that a mundane routine wasn’t bad. 

It seemed like the walk to work today might be the only normal thing about the day.

Leaving the tunnels always felt like going up for air after being underwater. His connection to the Beholding was so muted down there, and having that connection snap back into clarity was always a rather odd feeling that Jon had a hard time exactly describing. Was it a relief? Did it feel like a shackle being placed on him once more? Was it a comfort? Was it a disappointment? 

Whatever feeling it was, the feeling was always sharper when Jon stepped into the archives, into his domain, and his power snapped back into place. He could See every inch of it, every corner, every spot of his home. 

And today he saw the woman sitting in the assistant office, chatting away with Sasha and Martin while Tim tried to balance a pencil on his nose. 

Jon stepped into the room, staring at Naomi Herne. 

There was the faintest of fog rolling from Naomi’s feet.

Jon almost ran into his office without even greeting his assistants, at the last second literally catching the edge of the door and mumbling a quick ‘good morning’, hanging there just long enough for all three to reply in turn, and then completely entering his office and nearly slamming the door behind him.

God, he could almost taste the statement coming off of Naomi. 

With considerable effort, Jon stepped away from the door, trying to ignore the desire to open it and let her in, take her statement, his first fresh statement in months. Instead, he sat down in his seat, pulling out the tape from the top drawer and putting it in the cassette player that was on there. He hadn’t remembered putting on there, but he rarely placed the recorders anywhere these days. They were where they were needed. But this tape he always removed after listening to it. He didn’t want to risk it disappearing with the recorder.

_ “Alright, testing, testing. This is Sasha James, Archival Assistant at the Magnus Institute. Um, Jon didn’t really say what he wanted us to say, so… I guess I’ll just talk about how things have been settling in so far?” _

Jon sat back, closing his eyes and letting Sasha’s opinion in the archives from that first week wash over him. Yes, that was her voice. Yes, it matched up with the woman sitting at Sasha’s desk outside. It was soon followed by Martin, who stuttered through a poetry reading while Tim and Sasha cheered him on in the background, and finished with ‘Joe Spooky’ giving a statement on the crazy cryptid that lived in the archives and resided in Jon’s own office. Jon had heard it every day since he’d requested the recording, and every time Jon let himself smile just a bit at Tim’s antics. Tim had requested to be able to record over his ‘statement’ with updates, but Jon had denied it. He couldn’t let this be tampered with, not even if he thought he was sure it was really Tim doing it. 

The tape clicked off when it came to the end of the recording, leaving Jon to his thoughts. 

Naomi had come to get her statement taken. He should get her statement. He  _ needed  _ her statement. Having a fresh one, right out there, ripe for the taking, the fear still coming off of her from the encounter… it was almost too much to bear. But… Jon’s dreams had been so vacant. Him, standing in a porch in a neighborhood he’d never returned to. Above him was the Beholding looking down, waiting for something to happen. Anything. 

It was as close to truly restful sleep as he could get. 

But… Jon hadn’t taken an in-person statement in months. How much longer before the Beholding became impatient and started feeding on Jon? 

Jon fell out of his chair when there was an unexpected knock on the door.

“Uh, Jon? There’s somebody out here to get her statement taken?” Martin’s voice carried through the cracks of the door.

“I know.” Jon tried to sound put together, but it came out as more or less one big groan. 

“Okay.” 

Jon sat there with his head on his desk for a couple more minutes, convincing himself of the half-forged plan in his head. It was a good plan, a great plan. Okay, maybe not a  _ great plan,  _ but it was a Jon Sims plan and this one didn’t even involve any self-mutilation, so it was pretty high up on the ‘Actual Plan’ list, if he ignored the fact that it had been drummed up on the fly.

Jon opened the door and stepped out into the office. All eyes immediately landed on him, and if he wasn’t so used to being Stared at it might have made him uncomfortable. 

“I am Jon Sims, the Archivist. And you are?” Jon put his hand out and Naomi looked back at Tim, raising a skeptical eyebrow. Tim just shrugged and Naomi shook Jon’s hand.

“Naomi Herne. You guys are, like, paranormal investigators or whatever, right?” Naomi asked.

“In sense, I suppose we are. You have a statement you wanted to give?” Jon asked, knowing the question was entirely superfluous. Naomi nodded.

“Yeah, is that a problem?” Her eyebrow was still skeptically high on her face.

“No, but I do have something I need to get done this morning, a bit of a time-sensitive matter. So, in my stead, Sasha will be taking your statement.” Jon nodded over at Sasha, who sat upright, blinking in surprise. 

“Y-yes, I can do that.” Sasha confirmed, standing up a bit nervously and looking at Jon’s face. A shiver ran up Jon’s spine, although he wasn’t entirely sure why. He Glanced over her, and she seemed just fine, thinking about the statement she had been already researching that morning. 

“Good, good, I’ll be on my way then.”

Jon tried his best not to look like he was running away from Naomi.

He did take the stairs up to the rest of the institute two at a time, putting as much distance between him and the tempting fresh statement as possible. He had restraint, yes, but the three statements a week were already getting to be too little. He didn’t want to move onto four just yet. Maybe, if he just got something a little stronger…

It had been weeks since Jon had been in the rest of the building, and he could immediately feel how the comfortable cocoon of his own power that he’d been dwelling in fell away as he stepped into what was Elias’ domain. Portraits and eye-motifs were everywhere, now that he knew to look for them, and he felt himself bristle under the gaze. 

Rosie was the first person that came to mind. But no, that wouldn’t work. Rosie interacted too much with Elias, and she was far too good at keeping her mouth shut and nose out of business that wasn’t hers. Research was essentially known for its gossiping, it’d take all of a day for what Jon was doing to get back to Elias.

Even as Jon was unsure who exactly he was looking for, his feet seemed to have already come to a conclusion. 

“Anything I can help you with, uh, Jon, was it?” 

Jon didn’t know when he’d gotten to a room full of people, but when he blinked he found himself being stared at by a handful of people sitting at desks. There were random objects spread about the room and many papers containing lists and lists and lists of items that should never see the light of day unless specifically detailed otherwise. 

Artifact Storage. Of course. 

“Hello?” The person in front of Jon waved a hand in front of his face, snapping Jon’s attention from Knowing the items in the room to them. “Can we help you?” They repeated. 

“Yes,” Jon said, “Yes you can. May I talk to you?”

The person looked back at their coworkers, who all seemed to shrug, and then they followed Jon out of the doorway to Artifact Storage. Jon Knew who they were. Holly Sterling. They had worked in Artifact Storage for seven years, holding the current seniority of the team. They had seen a lot of things and had stayed around by what some might consider spite but really was a sense that this was what they were meant to do. That somebody had to do it, and Holly was willing to put up with all the shit in Storage if it meant somebody else slept a little better at night. Holly thought themselves somewhat expendable, and thus perfect for the job.

“You need to look at something in Storage?” Holly asked, folding their arms when the two of them finally reached a spot where Elias’ Watching felt weaker.

“No, I need you to  **tell me why you joined the institute** .” The compelling slipped in almost naturally.

And Holly told him a story about their siblings, and the Dark, and the swarming hive of moths they were supposed to drown in the Dark, and about being an only child. They didn’t look afraid of what they were saying, of the ease that it slipped out with. They had seen enough shit to not be surprised by the Archive.

The Archive sighed in contentment when it was over, finally feeling somewhere near full.

oOo

That night, as Jon slept, he still dreamed of standing on the porch, of the Eyes bearing down on him, and felt relieved that his plan had worked.

oOo

“What’s this?” 

Sasha jumped. Tim had apparently snuck up behind her at some point in the morning and now his chin was on her shoulder, reading the statement in her hand she’d been looking over. 

“Just a statement I was thinking about recording.” That was a lie. Sasha had no intentions of going over the Carlos Vittery case again. She was just trying to decide whether keeping it around for the vaugest mention of silver worms was worth it or not. 

“Sounds like a great distraction from actual work.” Tim said, reaching forward to grab it but hesitating just before he touched it. Sasha nodded, and he took it from her, returning to his desk to read through it.

“Yes, let’s read scary stories to avoid reading scary stories.” Sasha replied and rolled her eyes. 

“Um, this spooky story is one I don’t have to read. Sasha, I would’ve thought you’d know the clear difference.” Tim shook his head in disappointment, flipping the statement back to it first page.

Sasha’s side project of collecting Prentiss statement was lowly falling to the wayside as her attention turned more and more to figuring out what was up with Jon. She had a few theories, most of which had to do with the Stranger but a couple involved several other entities, including this all being some big plan of Elias’. It was slow going. Sasha wanted to find out what happened to Jon, she really did. But, well, maybe it was wrong but a part of her was enjoying getting to know this Jon who talked a bit more openly, who left his office, who might even allow himself to consider them his friends. 

“Uh, Sasha, Tim, is Jon in yet?” 

Martin poked his head into the office.

“Martin, he never comes in until all of us are already here.” Sasha reminded him. Martin nodded, biting hit lip.

“I know, I just… uh, well, somebody wants to give a statement.”

Martin stepped into the office, and following behind him was a woman Sasha vaguely recognized. The first year as an assistant was a bit of a blur to Sasha. The statements that Jon recorded, any taken live, any weird follow-ups, mostly paled in comparison to the next couple years of events. 

“You can, hm, we should get a couch or something, for statement-givers who come in before Jon is here.” Martin said, moving in the general direction of his desk while Naomi looked around the office. The open office door let a slight chill in, and Sasha found herself rubbing her arms to keep them warm. 

“I’ll grab a chair from the breakroom.” Tim offered, standing and stretching. 

“I’m Sasha.” Sasha introduced herself while Tim grabbed the chair, standing herself and offering to shake the woman’s hand. 

“Naomi.” Naomi took the offered hand. 

“Do we get a hint at what brings you in here today?” Sasha asked, leaning against her desk. 

“A funeral.” Naomi said.

“Oh, uh,” Sasha looked at her hands, unsure how to continue.

“It’s okay, what I’m here to talk about isn’t so much about somebody dying. It’s more to do with the aftermath really.” Naomi seemed like she was trying to reassure Sasha, but Sasha still felt terrible for having started the conversation as if Naomi wasn’t about to tell Jon about what was probably one of the worst days of her life.

“Let’s not talk about that. We, as the Assistants to the Head Archivist, need to thoroughly vet you before you can even  _ think  _ about seeing Jon.” Tim announced, carrying a chair in his arms that he put down between Sasha and Martin’s desks before returning to his own. “Now, Ms. Naomi - and this will be going into a permanent record - are you a cat person or a dog person?”

The next few minutes passed like that. Naomi was more of a cat person but liked small dogs. She thought water definitely had a taste, and was much better to drink when thirsty than soda. She liked poetry, and that got her into a conversation with Martin that Tim ducked out on, not being a fan himself until the poetry was put to some music in what most people called a song. 

Sasha knew what Jon arrived at the institute as the feeling of being Watched increased. Still, she wasn’t prepared for him to practically run right through the assistant office to his own, only barely stopping to shoot them a good morning and hear the three of them echo it back. And then, for the first time since Sasha went back, Jon closed the office door behind him.

“... wonder what that’s about.” Tim was the first one to speak.

“Maybe there was a spider in the hallway.” Sasha suggested. 

“So that was the Head Archivist?” Naomi asked and Sasha nodded. 

“Yeah. He’s not always so abrupt.” Sasha said.

They waited almost thirty minutes for Jon to come back out, continuing their conversation about poetry. Naomi and Martin found it was easier to express things like through it while Sasha enjoyed the hidden meanings and messages you could glean from it. Now that Jon had arrived, there wasn’t a reason for them to just sit around, and after an epic match of rock-paper-scissor it was decided that Martin would be the one to try and get Jon out of his office. 

“Uh, Jon? There’s somebody out here to get her statement taken?” Martin knocked on the door lightly.

“I know.” Jon replied, or Sasha thought the words were ‘I know’, considering they sounded more like Jon had just made a loud groaning sound instead of trying to articulate any real words.

“Okay.” 

Martin stepped away from the door and Sasha and Tim gestured for him to try again, be a bit more assertive. Martin refused, shaking his head and went back to his desk.

“Give him a minute.” Martin insisted. They did give him a couple minutes, and Saha and Tim were just starting to get ready for another rock-paper-scissors match when the door swung open and Jon stepped into the main office. He didn’t look at any of the assistants, instead locking eyes with Naomi, who had stood when the door opened. 

“I am Jon Sims, the Archivist. And you are?” Jon put his hand out and Naomi looked back at Tim, raising a skeptical eyebrow and clearly not impressed with her first impression of Jon. Tim just shrugged and Naomi shook Jon’s hand.

“Naomi Herne. You guys are, like, paranormal investigators or whatever, right?” Naomi asked. 

“In sense, I suppose we are. You have a statement you wanted to give?” Jon phrased it like a question, but he clearly already knew the answer. Sasha sat forward a bit, unsure why Jon hadn’t already invited Naomi into his office. 

“Yeah, is that a problem?” Naomi’s opinion of Jon didn’t seem to be improving.

“No, but I do have something I need to get done this morning, a bit of a time-sensitive matter. So, in my stead, Sasha will be taking your statement.” Jon nodded over at Sasha, and it took her a second to exactly process what he had said. She sat up, blinking in surprise, and looked over at Naomi. The woman was still staring at Jon.

“Y-yes, I can do that.” Sasha confirmed, standing up a bit nervously and looking at Jon. He hadn’t told them about any kind of meeting he might have, although to be fair he had been in long. She tried to Know something about him, but like wherever she tried that trick on either him or Elias all she got was the beginning of a headache. 

“Good, good, I’ll be on my way then.”

And then Jon all but ran out of office.

“That was, hm, that was  _ something _ .” Tim summed up. 

“I guess… we’ll record in Jon’s office?” Sasha stood up. Naomi shrugged.

“I mean, as long as we get this over with.” Naomi sighed and followed Sasha into said office. It was organized chaos, as it always was. None of the assistants really went into Jon’s office, Sasha included, but there didn’t seem much to see. Anything that was spread out where Sasha could see it looked like normal Archivist research and preparation. There was a picture on Jon’s desk that Sasha had never seen before of a big black cat - the Admiral, Sasha recognized - sitting on somebody’s lap with his eyes closed and content. 

“Go ahead and take a seat.” Sasha gestured to the seats left out for statement givers.

“Why didn’t Tim grab one of these earlier?” Naomi asked as she sat down. 

“Oh. Uh, hm. I guess we’re just so used to not coming in here, especially when Jon isn’t in, it didn’t even cross our mind.” Sasha admitted. 

Even though nobody had died in here yet, Sasha still wasn’t comfortable being in Jon’s office. She wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. She grabbed one of the recorders on the desk - there were three - and made sure to switch out the tape with the new blank ones that sat in a basket off to the side, making sure not to grab the one Jon had accidentally put in there after recording on it and forgetting to label it. 

“Alright, let’s get started. No need to beat around the bush.” Sasha hit record.

“Are you… really going to record me on that ancient thing?” Naomi asked. 

“Yes, you see, true statements don’t record well digitally, the file ends up all corrupted, so this is the best we can do for now.” Sasha explained. Naomi didn’t seem like she completely believed that but also didn’t look like she was in the mood to argue about it, instead just sighing. Sasha cleared her throat, “Okay, can you just say your name, the date, and the subject of why you’re here?”

“My name is Naomi Herne, the date is the 13th of January, 2016, and I’m here to make a statement about the events following the funeral of my fiance, Evan Lukas.” 

Naomi went on to talk about meeting her fiance, about being content when alone, about the strange Lukas family with the odd darkness in their eyes. Sasha listened as Naomi described the car crash afterwards, running through the cemetery, and finally ending with getting hit by a car. 

“So… what do you make of it?” Naomi said after she finally concluded. 

“Well,” And here Sasha hesitated, unsure exactly what to say. She might not know exactly what had happened, such as why Naomi had heard her fiance’s voice at the end there, and her personal interactions with the Lonely were only through statements. Still, she knew enough to be able to help a bit, “I guess this goes without saying, but you should stay away from the Lukas family. They’ve appeared in too many statements for it to be a coincidence, and they’re almost always associated with disappearances.” 

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Naomi assure her, “I have no plans to ever reach out to them again.”

“Yes, but they might want to reach out to you. I’m not exactly an expert at their particular brand of, well, I guess you could call it magic? But from what I’ve read it seems to target people who are isolated or lonely. I’m not a doctor, and definitely not a Fear doctor, but if I was I’d basically prescribe you to go for walks, try to talk with people, try to have some kind of connection with another person.” Sasha suggested.

“I, don’t know,” Naomi admitted. She looked down at her hands, “Being alone just feels so much more… natural, better. Easier.”

“Naomi, I need you to promise me that you’ll at least try reconnecting your friends.” Sasha insisted. Naomi still didn’ outlook sure, but nodded nonetheless.

“I’ll try, but I won’t make any promises.” Naomi agreed. Sasha, in a stroke of inspiration, tore a piece of paper out of Jon’s notebook sitting on the desk and scratched her phone number onto it, passing it over to Naomi.

“If that’s too hard, well, I’m perfectly willing to keep in touch with you.” Sasha offered. Naomi look the piece of paper, staring at it, and when she looked back at Sasha she was smiling just a bit.

“Okay. I can do that.” 

oOo

Sasha dreamt that night of Naomi, running through the graveyard, mist tugging at her and slowly dragging her towards the open grave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the people who have commented! It means a lot to me that so many people seem to be enjoying this fic, and that so many of you have noticed the little hints or easter eggs i've left behind! I can promise you that any non-canonical statement that gets brought up is 100% a reference to something. This chapter ended up extra long today, so a little treat from me to you :)
> 
> If you have any questions/theories/comments, absolutely comment them. You can also fine me on tumblr [@browniefox](https://browniefox.tumblr.com/)


	7. Chapter 7

Sasha woke up and swore she could still feel the chill of the graveyard even beneath the covers of her bed. She shivered at the memory of the dream, of watching Naomi lose more and more ground until the only thing keeping her out of the open grave was her hands, desperately clawed into the dirt and grass. Sasha Knew that at the end, at that point in the dream, Naomi always started to forget why she was holding on, and the fact that she was forgetting always made her even more scared, her fear almost tangible in the air. 

At Sasha's shivering, the body pressed up against her back shifted closer, the arm around Sasha pulling her more against his chest. Sasha let his warmth soothe her, comfort her.

Tim tended to get with somebody over the weekends, and this time it was Sasha. It wasn’t the first time, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. Sasha hoped it wouldn’t be the last. They had never tried to put a name to what they had. Maybe they would, someday, but not tonight. Tonight, Sasha would just enjoy being held in Tim’s arms and be okay with the fact that next week it would probably be the bartender Tim had been flirting with recently.

Sasha was awake enough that, if she squinted, she could make out the numbers on her alarm clock. 3:32 am. Far too early to be up. It was already hard enough to sleep knowing that she’d see Naomi as soon as she drifted off. The idea of heading in for a round two wasn’t all that enticing. 

The first time she'd had the nightmare, Sasha had brushed it off. She’d even managed to ignore the second night. The third night, however, it was starting to seem a bit suspicious. Apparently Naomi had agreed, calling Sasha and asking if having dreams was normal for giving statements, to which Sasha had honestly replied that she wasn’t sure. It certainly hadn’t happened to her before, though the live statements she’d taken could be counted on one hand. She idn't know what this meant.

Naomi didn’t seem to blame Sasha over it. If anything, Naomi seemed sympathetic that Sasha had to watch it over and over again with Naomi. When Sasha pressed Naomi why she didn’t blame her, Naomi had replied that if she was going to blame  _ anybody,  _ it would either be the Lukas Family, who clear knew more about what had been going on than anyone, or Jon, who had suspiciously ducked out of taking her statement and thus sentenced Sasha to the fate of the nightmare. 

Sasha had defended Jon to Naomi upon hearing the accusation, but internally Sasha couldn’t help but to agree. It  _ was  _ suspicious. It was the job of the Archivist to take the statements. Jon should take statements. Why hadn’t he? Why had he run out of the room? And why had he looked so much better rested, so much healthier, when he came back?

They weren’t questions Sasha was going to find the answer to staring at her alarm clock, but they were ones that ran circles in her mind.

Research into Jon wasn’t easy. What was she supposed to  _ do?  _ Sneak into the man’s apartment and see if he was keeping the real Jon tied up in his closet, or have a bunch of different skin suits on hangers? Sasha had a feeling that wouldn’t go over well, reminded of Jon spying on all of them after Prentiss and how it had been what really kicked off the hostility between Jon and Tim. No, best to prevent that and not be the one to launch it herself.

But still, Sasha had been given this chance to do this all over again and get a better result, and she didn’t want to waste it. She wanted to save Jon. Even if it meant this person she’d been getting to know over the past few months wasn’t Jon, that she had been getting closer with a Stranger than she had ever been with any Jon, future or present.

Sasha closed her eyes, and when she opened them again she was in a graveyard.

oOo

Tim woke with a yawn, pawing at the empty space in front of him where he expected for find a person but instead found nothing but cold mattress. Cold mattress until there was a mewing and Sneaks jumped up onto the bed, sniffing Tim’s face.

“Morning to you too.” Tim said, voice a little rough sounding from just waking up. Sneaks tried to rub his face against Tim’s and Tim pulled away, sitting up and spitting cat hair out of his mouth. “Okay, okay, you win, I’m up.” Tim groaned and ran a hand through his hair. He could feel it sticking up at odd angles, but he didn’t bother to try and put it any other kind of shape. It wasn’t like Sasha would care, really. 

He walked into the kitchen to find, with absolutely no surprise, that Sash was already in there eating a bowl of cereal. He smiled and she nodded at him. She was, of course, too busy eating to really smile or anything, but Tim had to admit that she seemed a little… something, something was off about her.

“Good morning.” Tim kissed her forehead and then she turned her head up from staring at her breakfast and gave him a quick kiss on the lips that tasted like sugar and milk. 

“Morning.” Sasha said, sounding distracted. She stayed quiet as Tim manuvered easily around the kitchen, grabbing a bagel out of her fridge and tossing it into the toaster. Sneaks had followed Tim out of the bedroom and wound himself around and around Tim’s ankles while Tim waiting for his bagel to finish. Sasha stared at Tim, and Tim couldn’t tell if she was doing it on purpose or if she was staring into space and her eyes just happened to have landed on him. Her hair was much less of a rats nest than Tim’s, a clear sign that she had been up a lot longer than Tim, not to mention she was wearing real clothes. Tim had thrown on a pair of sweatpants he’d left here once and called it good.

Sneaks seemed to have also picked up on Sasha’s weird mood and jumped up onto the counter.

“Sneaks, get off of there.” Tim chided but Sasha waved him off.

“No, he’s fine,” Sasha insisted, putting a hand out and scratching the cat’s cheek, “This is a war I’ve just kind of accepted I’ve lost.”

“Wow, never took your for a quiter.” Tim sighed dramatically and shook his head. Sasha just sighed as well, and the worry that had been settling in Tim’s stomach grew. He sat down on the stool ext to hers and placed a hand ontop of hers, waiting until she was looking him in the eyes, “Hey, Sash, you okay?”

“... no.” Sasha admitted, turning her hand so that she could threw her fingers tinto the spaces bewteen his, “Tim there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“Well, let’s not beat around the bush.” Tim said, trying not to sound like he was worried of what she could mean. Was this it between them, whatever it was that they had going on? Now that they were coworkers of such a small team or whatever? 

“Tim… I don’t think Jon is Jon.” Sasha said.

That, well, whatever Tim expected, he certainly hadn’t thought that Jon was going to be the crux of the issue.

“Sorry?” Tim asked

“I  _ know  _ it must sound a little, well, crazy, but I don’t want to keep doing this on my own, and I could use your help - and your support.” Sasha continued. 

Before Sasha said more, she led them to the couch, which was fine by Tim. This seemed like it was going to be a couch issue. Sasha propped her feet up onto Tim’s lap and Sneaks climbed up onto Sasha’s lap, purring loudly and all loafed-up with his legs tucked underneath him.

“Jon’s been really nice recently,” Sasha started, “And I know that that should be a good thing, but I don’t think it is. I don’t think that it’s Jon at all. I mean, he forgot about Sneaks, Tim.  _ Sneaks.”  _ Sneaks accented Sasha’s point by mewing loudly.

“Well, that was weird, but he’s had a lot going on. We all know he’s well over his head with the whole Head Archivist thing and seems determined not to get any help from you.” Tim pointed out. He knew it was probably still a sore point for Sasha, being denied the position that had been all-but promised to her by Gertrude, and Tim himself had been angry about it at first as well. But, well, it wasn’t really Jon’s fault, and Jon was Tim’s friend, and so Tim would still support him.

“There’s… I have this theory. You know Smirke’s fourteen fears, right?” Sasha asked. Of course Tim did. He didn’t like where this was going. 

“Yes.” Tim said cautiously.

“Well, I think he’s right, and that there’s fourteen fears, and that one of them has replaced Jon.” Sasha said and then looked at Tim expectantly. Tim wasn’t sure what she wanted him to say. He might not have been in the archives all that long, but he had been in research and he had noticed patterns in weird things happening. Maybe he wouldn’t have said specifically fourteen categories, but that seemed about right. 

But the idea of Jon not being Jon…

“Is it the fear of actually being a nice person to be around?” Tim joked half-heartedly. While he tried not to show it, he had been border-line overjoyed at how open Jon had become over the past few months. He wasn’t  _ entirely  _ open with them, but over the past few months Jon had been more willing to chat and be included in outings than he ever had been in Research. Tim had assumed it was due to the close-quarters and small size of the archive team.

“The Stranger,” Sasha said, and her eyes got a far off look to them, a shiver running down his body as she wrapped her arms around her, “It has a lot of different names, but it deals with replacing people, stealing their skins, uncanny-valley kind of horror and it’s- it’s terrible.” Sasha’s voice cracked at the end, eyes shining as they filled with tears, and Tim shoved her feet aside so that he could wrap her in a hug. She didn’t sob, but let herself be held in his arms as she quietly cried. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s okay Sasha,” Tim whispered soothingly.

“They weren’t supposed to win,” Sasha mumbled into Tim’s shoulder almost too quiet and muffled for him to hear, “They weren’t supposed to win this time.”

“Have you had a run in with them before?” Tim asked and felt Sasha’s nod against him. 

“It was… there was a circus, and I almost died.” She confessed to him. Tim did his best not to noticeably stiffen at the mention of a circus. It couldn’t… could it? Stealing skins, yes, that sounded…

Tim didn’t want to hold Sasha too tightly, but his fingers dug a bit into the back of her shirt anyway.

_ ‘They weren’t supposed to win this time,’  _ Tim repeated in his head, thinking of that last time he’d seen Danny alive, in Tim’s apartment, that final time he got to hold his baby brother. He thought about that first week at the archive, of waving at Jon still in his office while Tim made his way out for the weekend. 

Missed opportunities slipped through his fingers like sand. 

“I’ll help you figure this out,” Tim promised, “We’re going to find out what happened to Jon.”

oOo

Jon didn’t bother to go back to his apartment over the weekend. 

His current Big Project was putting together a list of statements that might be helpful for the future. Certainly, he wanted to stop the Unknowing, or at the very least kill Nikola. That wasn’t really for Jon, but he thought that Tim might get a kick out of it as well as some closure, and it made a very good ‘I’m Sorry You’re Trapped Here’ gift, or would when Jon broke that to his team. That’s what friends did for each other, right? Get revenge? 

At any rate, it meant that Jon had started to put together a collection of Stranger - specifically the Circus - related statements, putting them in a drawer in his office to eventually distribute to his assistants. There were others there, too, like a Jude Perry statement and a collection of Michael statements, as well as various others that might come in handy in the future. 

The odd feeling of being watched by something other than the Ceaseless Watcher, something getting into Jon’s domain, left on the weekends and Jon was able to read as many statements as he needed without fear of revealing his hand to yet another being. The archives had been around for long enough that Jon had more than he could ever read. Or at least enough to keep him somewhere near the realm of satisfied for now. 'Three statements a week' Plan had fallen through the cracks with Holly’s statement, which seemed to have awoken a bit more of Jon’s need for statements, his hunger for fear. The new plan was to fill up on the weekends as much as he could and then hope he could keep it together for the next five days. 

It was nice to know that he could fairly harmlessly take statements from other institute employees. He knew it’d worked for Daisy, but he hadn’t been sure if that kind of ‘protection’ extended outside of the archive. Still, it was an ace Jon wanted to use sparingly. The more he left the archives, the more chances Elias had to learn more about Jon. The more Elias Knew, the more Jon lost what upper-hand he had.

Currently, the plan was to wait out Elias. He would have to do  _ something  _ eventually, something that would make it clear that Elias was a monster, and then maybe Jon could finally let the others know what he knew, and they’d figure out some way to get rid of Elias without him bringing the Institute with him.

That was other research that Jon had been doing. Rather unsurprisingly, none of the statements Jon had found were much help yet. Perhaps he’d try to find Gertrude’s body and, far more important, her stash of tapes. There might be something of use there, although knowing Gertrude her answer would just be ‘Shoot him in the face’ or ‘Burn down the archives’, neither of which were options Jon was particularly fond of. 

The archives were rather quiet when there was only one person down there. Jon was fairly sure he was too entrenched in the Beholding - in being watched - to be taken by the Lonely, but he couldn’t help but to wonder if he carried a bit of it with him just as he carried a bit of Martin, a bit that would always long for the man he’d never quite see again.

He found comfort in his growing relationships with the archival team, but Jon couldn’t deny it felt like he was lying to them. They didn’t know what they had agreed to, not yet, and every laugh Jon shared felt like a betrayal. He should tell them. Tell them they couldn’t really leave, that they could only if they blinded themselves, that they had unwillingly been working for a deity that fed on fear the entire time they’d been working at the institute.

But Jon couldn’t risk it. Not yet

He might not be expendable anymore, not when Elias would be too curious to throw Jon away, but Gertrude had proven that assistants could be cannon fodder if the Archivist wanted or let them to be.

Jon leaned against a shelf of statement, pulling out his phone and scrolling through his contacts until he found Georgie’s number. He looked at their last conversation, which had ended with her sending him a picture of the Admiral and him sending a bunch of hearts back in return. That had been several months ago. Well before Jon had arrived back in the past. 

She had been there for Jon when he’d needed her. Jon had not been there for her in return. He had shut her out, and then she had in turn shut herself off from him. It wasn’t anything that Jon didn’t deserve. Maybe this Georgie didn’t remember telling Jon that she wanted to stay out of his mess, but Jon knew it. 

How many times over the past couple months had he stared at his phone, stared at her number, and considered calling her to ask how she was doing, how the Admiral was doing? He could Know both of those things, if he wanted to. Georgie had always been too good for him. Martin is - was - had been - too good for Jon as well. 

How many times had Jon sad there with her contact information swiped to the side, the red delete button glaring up at him? He didn’t know her number off the top of his head, and it wouldn’t mean much when he could just Know it, and he knew where she lived, but… 

Jon sighed, letting his hand fall to his side and sitting back on the floor. He’d taken statements off the shelf he thought might end up being useful and now he sat in the middle of them.

He had work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, new chapter!  
> Sorry that so much of this fic is kind of introspective stuff, but i promise we have some really good stuff coming on!  
> Feel free to tell me what you think about the fic, I promise I notice all you guys who comment each time <3 you mean the world to me  
> If you want, you can find me on my tumblr [@browniefox](https://browniefox.tumblr.com/) for my personal blog and [@artful-browniebites](http://artful-browniebites.tumblr.com/) for my art :)


	8. Chapter 8

There was something odd about the archives. 

Not about the archives themselves, Jon amended, but his team, his friends. 

It was Monday, and Jon had come to work feeling ready to take on the day. He had filled up on statements last night before going back to his apartment, slept as well as one could when they had the Eye of an entity that fed off of fear bearing down on them, and wasn’t all that late coming in that morning. 

“Good morning.” Jon had greeted them, already taking his shoulder bag off and ready to ‘catch’ their responses as he went into his office. 

“Morning!” Martin was quick to reply.

And the only one. 

Jon’s hand had already reached for the door to his office, settling on it and ready to open his door. But he couldn’t  _ go in,  _ not without Sasha and Tim’s replies, not until he could check that they were still Sasha and Tim. And if they didn’t reply, then his whole system was going to all fall apart. Jon stood there for a few minutes. Waiting. Was his heartbeat always that loud? That had to be his imagination, right? 

“... Jon?” 

It was still only Martin’s voice. There were still two of his people unaccounted for. It was enough, however, for Jon to break through whatever fear had frozen him there enough that he could turn around. There were two other people in the room other than Martin. Jon had made a vague notice of them when he’d entered. They  _ looked  _ like Sasha and Tim from Jon’s memories. But his memory of people wasn’t always the most reliable, was it?

“Good morning.” Jon repeated, trying not to sound like he was on the edge of a breakdown. Both Sasha and Tim were looking at him with blank expressions. He Looked at them, just a bit, just a peek, but Sasha was thinking about Sneaks and Tim was thinking about Danny, which Jon knew better than to touch with a hundred-meter pole. 

“Hey.” Tim said, and Jon wasn’t going to show how relieved he was over that. Tim gave Jon a stiff nod.

Sasha still didn’t say anything. 

“Sasha?” Jon asked, quietly.

“Yeah?” Sasha replied, raising an eyebrow. 

Jon nodded to her, not saying anything else, and entered his office. He didn’t close the door completely behind him for fear of once again showing how shaken that morning’s first interaction of the day had left him. It was bad enough he’d done it when Naomi had shown up, he didn’t want to lose the established trust the ajar door represented. 

So instead Jon walked over to his desk, pushed his chair away from it, and curled up in the space beneath it, carrying the tape with his assistants voices on them along with a recorder to play them on down with him. He was short enough to lie almost comfortably under there, with the recorder by his head, eyes closed and Eyes on his assistants as he listened to their so so familiar voices that were _still_ familiar, still right.

_ “But what should I care, for letters from doves,/ my bed lies empty as it waits for my love. For who should claim / roses in my name / but your calloused hands thereof.” _

Although Martin’s voice was clearly nervous, he read his poem with a surprising lack of stutters and stumbles. He always worked better with a script, with a plan. Reading out loud was natural for the man. The poem, well-memorized by this point, helped to calm Jon. In fact, it calmed him enough to make him flush as he realized what an utter fool he must’ve seemed like to the others. It was just a missing ‘good morning’. Admittedly, it had become the keystone of Jon’s routine, but what would one day missing it mean?

It could mean the difference between a chance to save his friends or lose them, Jon reminded himself.  _ That  _ was why it was important he check every day. 

The recording of Tim finished his ‘statement’, Joe Spooky signing off, and Jon pulled himself back out from underneath his desk feeling once again ready for the day. It was a little bit… upsetting, he would admit, that all it had taken was one small event in his routine not getting done for him to essentially have a panic attack. Maybe he should see a therapist or something?

No, there was no way that would end well. Better to just wallow in his misery and scarred psyche. 

Now, though, Jon was ready for the day. It was going to be okay. He was even going to read a statement. He’d already selected one beforehand, a Lukas-centered one. Jon had to admit, he didn’t know much about the Lukas family, and he wanted to try and be more prepared if he encountered them again. He wasn’t sure if he was still strong enough to do whatever he’d done to Peter Lukas last time. He doubted it.

As if Martin had just been waiting for Jon to finish his daily listening to the tape, it was only now he knocked on the door. 

“Come in.” Jon said, and Martin slipped in with the daily cup of tea in hand. Jon accepted the cup with a nod and it wasn’t until he felt the warmth through the ceramic and took a sip of the almost-perfect tea that he realized that this was the last thing he had needed to cap off his morning. The last part of his morning routine. 

“Tim and Sasha just seem like they’ve had a bit of a weird weekend or something.” Martin told Jon, “They’ve been a little off all morning.”

Jon nodded, taking another sip of tea instead of saying anything. Martin seemed to take this as his cue to go, leaving the door open only the smallest crack behind him. Jon sighed and put his head down on his desk. Alright, it was time to get to work. 

oOo

Tim had hoped that over the weekend, maybe he and Sasha would have been able to put the pieces together on what was wrong with 'Jon' or who he really was or what had happened to the real Jon. As it turned out, they hadn’t been able to figure out much. 

Sasha had listed off all the odd things she’d noticed about 'Jon' - a rather impressive list - and had stopped Tim from making it into a written one, insisting that the less physical proof they had of their suspicion, the better. Tim had to admit that was probably for the best. 

So far, their best idea of how to test 'Jon' was to see if Sneaks still reacted the same way to 'Jon' as he had before. Last time Sneaks had been at the institute, it had been like Jon was covered in catnip or something. Tim and Sasha had had to pull Sneaks off of Jon, and the cat’s claws had been so dug into Jon’s shirt it had ended up ripping. Jon hadn’t been upset about, since it was from a cat. 

This was going to be their last resort plan, because getting Sneaks to the institute that first time had been hard enough, and whatever the thing pretending to be Jon was might eat cats or something. This would not be worth losing Sneaks over, that was a fact.

Sasha had shared a few more things with Tim. Namely, that she thought when they were in the archives they were being watched by whatever ‘Jon’ was, and that he stopped watching when he was reading a statement. Tim had asked if the rest of the institute was safe, then, and Sasha had looked uncomfortable when she admitted that she didn’t think they rest of it was being watched by ‘Jon’, but  _ was  _ being watched by something else. 

Tim asked if there was any place they could talk about it at work, if they even knew they were safe in Sasha’s apartment. He didn’t have the watching feeling she described. Sasha had looked uncomfortable when that had been brought up, but she said on the weekends and when she was home after work, she usually didn’t have the feeling of somebody watching her, though it would surface out of the blue on occasion. 

But there was a place that might work.

“When I was doing one of my statement readings, one of them mentioned secret tunnels under the archives.” Sasha had told Tim. “I think I found an entrance, but the door is locked.”

Which brought Tim to where he was now. It was Monday, and ‘Jon’ read his statements right after lunch. Lunch itself had been an awkward affair, considering neither Sasha nor Tim wanted to talk to ‘Jon’. Martin had filled the empty air by chatting about the weather and the snow, which was enough to get ‘Jon’ to talk in depth about meteorology. Tim hadn’t been able to stop himself at that point from poking fun at ‘Jon’, so used to it.

Lunch done, 'Jon' in his office, and the tape recorder whirring away. Sasha left to read her own statement and Tim stood, stretching out and telling Martin he just wanted to stretch his legs. Martin gave him a worried look - he clearly knew that something was up with Sasha and Tim - but didn’t stop him. 

It took some fiddling with various doors. Some were locked and just lead to broom closets, some were unlocked and thus immediately off the list, and one was a weird yellow door that wouldn’t open and felt like it was locked, but clearly didn’t have a keyhole. The color of it was so obnoxiously bright that it gave Tim a headache, and even though an impossible to unlock door was pretty good for a secret tunnel entrance, the bright color of it cancelled that out. Tim kept looking.

Finally, Tim found a door with a lock on it, a bolt, and a padlock. Either it led to a secret entrance to the tunnels or a secret room or something somebody was trying to keep well locked away, and Tim was honestly fine with any of those. At least it would be something.

Tim knew how to pick locks. He wasn’t necessarily  _ good  _ at it, or very fast, but he was familiar with how, and it was a very useful skill when he was doing follow-ups on statements. He managed to get the doorlock easily enough, but the padlock was trickier. Tim considered knocking the door down entirely, only to find when he tested it that the door was made of real wood and wouldn’t go down without a fight. A bit of a fire-safety hazard in Tim’s opinion, but whatever. 

Him and Sasha didn’t  _ need  _ the mysterious tunnel that would hide them from being Watched, but Tim knew he’d feel better if he knew it was a real option. He didn’t like not knowing what he could do about this. He was glad Sasha told him, he was glad he could be there and help Sasha with trying to figure out what happened to Jon and that she felt she could confide in him, but he had to admit he did miss the ignorance. He knew that something needed to be done about Jon and ‘Jon’, but he didn’t know what, and that was frustrating as hell.

Sasha could read statements. Sasha knew more about what she was looking for, new more about the circus, about the monsters that were taking everybody Tim cared about and loved from him.

Well, Tim could try and find a place where they didn’t need to worry about being Seen by a monster. 

“Don’t forget the doorstop on the bottom.”

Tim felt like he jumped three feet into the air as he spun around to find 'Jon' standing right behind him. 'Jon’s' hands were clasped in front of him, and Tim recognized the nervous fidgeting as the fingers linked between each other and broke apart in ways that looked like they weren’t uncomfortable. Tim had noticed 'Jon' doing it, especially when caught in a conversation he was having a hard time parsing through. The man was shorter than Tim, and was currently hunched just a bit more into himself and looked even shorter, cutting the exact opposite of an intimidating sillhouette. 

Tim looked at the bottom of the door and saw that there was, indeed, a doorstop wedged into the bottom of the door’s frame. With the way it puckered where the plastic met the door, Tim was sure that it would be fairly difficult to dislodged it. 

“Ah.” Tim said, not knowing what he was supposed to say after being caught. He didn’t have a weapon on him, why hadn’t he thought about grabbing a weapon when he came to work today? Instead he curled his hands into fists, hating that he didn’t have whatever sixth-sense let Sasha know she was being Watched. 

'Jon' took a step back, clearly catching onto Tim’s bad mood, and Tim hated how that made the pit of his stomach curdle. He shouldn’t feel bad for this  _ thing  _ in front of him.

“Do you know where that door leads?” 'Jon' asked, eyes searching Tim’s face for something. 

“Nope, just trying to find some files and stuff.” Tim said, saying it with what he hoped was absolute confidence. 

“... I see.” 'Jon' said it slowly, and Tim could tell that 'Jon' didn’t believe him. Still, 'Tim wasn’t going to crack. Tim watched as 'Jon' continued to look at Tim, biting his lip, hands continuing to fidget into increasingly more painful shapes. “Well, you’re not going to find anything past there.”

“Alrighty then.” Tim said with fake confidence, ready to push past Jon and get back to his seat. Jon caught Tim’s arm before he could complete the move, however. 

“Wait.” There was a pleading tone to Jon’s voice that made Tim pause, “Tim… I… your b…” Jon gave a frustrated sigh after giving several false starts to a sentence before finally saying, “I’m sorry about all of this. Follow me.”

Jon let go of Tim and walked farther into the archives. His back was to Tim, and Tim knew if he wanted, he could just go right on back to the office and leave Jon behind. And yet… Tim had to admit he was curious where Jon was taking him. He had his phone on him, and texted a quick ‘if I’m not back in ten minutes, start looking for me’ to Sasha with an ‘lol’ ended onto the end so that she hopefully wouldn’t worry too much . 

There was an odd familiarity with which Jon walked through the archives, no hesitation on where to turn, never stumbling over boxes of statements that had been left out, or chairs taken out of rooms for whatever reason and not returned. He also didn’t look over his shoulder to see if Tim is following him, but Tim did notice how a bit of the tension in Jon’s shoulders had eased up once Tim was walking behind him. 

They came to a dead-end of a hallway, rooms with some of the oldest statements on either side of them. Jon turned around and Tim raised an eyebrow at him, unimpressed. Jon’s eyes darted away from Tim, and then looked back at him, and then darted away again. Tim had always thought Jon had brown eyes, but they must’ve actually been hazel or something as, with a flickering lightbulb clinging to life above them, they could’ve been green. 

Jon tapped his foot on the floor. There was a hollow sound from it. Jon moved a stack of books with his foot and revealed a small keyhole that had been hidden underneath them.

“It isn’t actually locked, just takes a moment to pry the entrance up. You and Sasha, there’s… if there’s something… your brother-” Jon once again tried to figure out what he was trying to say and then groaned out loud, slamming his palm to his forehead, when he mentioned Tim’s brother. Tim for his part didn’t know how to respond to that, too taken by surprise. Had he mentioned Danny to Jon? Maybe in passing, maybe when he was drunk, but his brother wasn’t somebody he liked to talk about, especially not at the Magnus Institute, “Tim, if you or Sasha or Martin need some time to ourselves, you can go down here.” Jon finally said, eyes closed like he didn’t want to see Tim’s expression right now.

To be fair, Tim wasn’t sure what kind of expression he had on anyway, so maybe it was for the best.

“What is it?” Tim managed to collect his thoughts enough to ask.

“There… I found these tunnels underneath the institute. I wouldn’t recommend exploring them, they’re confusing, but it’s- you can know- it’s a nice place to think.” And with that Jon, seemed to had decided he was done and started to determinedly walk back down the hall. This time, Tim grabbed Jon’s wrist. Jon flinched badly from the contact. 

“Jon, look,” Tim sighed, not knowing what he was trying to say. Jon stood there patiently, “There’s just some stuff going on recently. And thank you.” 

Jon nodded and rushed off. 

oOo

Jon was the first one to return, immediately going to his office and nearly closing the door behind him. Sasha waited very impatiently for ten minutes to pass, but Tim was back after eight minutes and forty-one seconds. 

“Did you find the door?” Sasha asked. The space between Tim’s eyebrows was creased in thought. 

“Yes, but it was locked. But… Jon showed me another entrance to the tunnels.” Tim admitted.

_ “What?”  _ Sasha said, wanting to shout it but remembering to keep her voice hushed in case Jon was listening in.

“Yeah.” Tim leafed through the statements on his desk, picking one up and looking it over. “... I’m not going to be in tomorrow. I’m going to go do a follow-up. Give myself some time to think.” Tim stated. 

Sasha’s heart stopped his her chest, because she Knew which statement he was holding. 

“That’s not even one Jon wants us to do.” Sasha blurted out. Tim looked surprised by her abruptness, and Sasha was equally as surprised. Well, there was no taking it back now, “That’s the Carlos Vittery one, right?” 

“Yes.” Tim confirmed.

“I was, that’s a really interesting one. I’ll do the follow up on it. It’s ‘my’ statement, afterall.” Sasha said perhaps a bit too quickly to come off as casual, “You can do the follow-up I was planning.” Sasha added, grabbing her current research and holding it out to him.

“O...kay?” Tim clearly knew something was up, but Sasha was too glad he didn’t fight her on it to care. 

The statement felt heavier than a few pieces of paper should. But if somebody was going to do this, well, Sasha was better prepared than anybody. She had an odd feeling that if she didn't follow up on it, the statement would find its way to either Martin or Tim again. 

Better it be Sasha. She could handle it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet more introspection, but tbh that's just kind my writing style lol. We are going to have some real action next chapter tho! So look forward to that :D


	9. Chapter 9

Sasha, as it turned out, could not handle the Carlos Vittery case. 

If she had thought about her plan for more than a few seconds, she probably would have realized the fatal flaw in it. At the time, however, it seemed like a perfectly decent plan. 

Sasha carried two fire extinguishers with her to Carlos Vittery’s old apartment complex. There was also a baseball bat thrown into there, a box of matches, and gasoline. The CO2 had worked last time, and if that failed then she’d see if the Living Hive was able to stay living after being lit on fire. 

She remembered Martin - a Martin from years ago, a world ago - telling her that he’d had to go in through the basement, and that that was where he’d seen Jane Prentiss. She wished she had access to the recording of his statement now. As Sasha got closer to the building, she couldn’t help but to wonder if Jane Prentiss would even be there. When had Martin come here 'before'? Was she working too fast this time around, and Jane Prentiss was off terrorizing people somewhere else and still on her way to take up residence in this basement? Or maybe Martin was supposed to have done the follow-up weeks ago and Jane Prentiss had already moved on. That would be good, right? Not encountering Prentiss? 

Or maybe it’d just mean they’d run into Prentiss even less prepared than before, with less of a warning. 

Sasha wasn’t sure if seeing one of the familiar silver worms was techincally good or bad, but it did mean she was in the right place. It charged at her, and she remembered how surprisingly fast the worms could be. She stomped on it without any hesitation, and killing it felt good, a preamble to what she was going to do. 

None of the windows to the basement were open, but one was unlocked and she was able to push it up and slip down, having to manuever her bag around a bit to get it through with her. It was bulky, heavy, and awkward to carry, but that was a small price for taking down Prentiss.

She was greeted by the sickeningly familiar musty smell that haunted her nightmares - or it had haunted her nightmares, back when they weren’t a nightly shared experience with Naomi. Even then, somenights as she watched Naomi, she swore she could smell it still. Sasha could remember how it had seeped into the archives slowly slowly slowly, day by day. When she had finally started to notice it, she had wondered if it had been some kind of leak, some kind of mold that they hadn’t known about. 

It had been a warning. A warning they hadn’t heeded.

Well, this time they weren’t going to have to worry about it.

The basement was covered in webs, thick strands strung up around the boiler, densely packed into the corners of the room, hanging between boxes that had been shoved off to the side. It was warm and humid down there, and it should have been a welcome change compared to the chill outside. It wasn’t. It was only once Sasha was down in the dark there that she realized she’d forgotten to bring a torch and quietly cursed under her breath, taking out her phone and using it to light her way. 

Sasha walked quietly, staying on the balls of her feet so she could run to the window and escape if Prentiss attacked. 

She found the monster in the corner, facing away from Sasha. 

Sasha hadn’t seen much of Jane Prentiss that first time. She’d seen the monster when it had come out to attack Tim… and yeah, that had been about it. Sasha found herself staring at Jane, now that she had the chance. It was probably a foolish move, the exact opposite of what she’d come to do, but something in Sasha wanted to analyze Jane, to really look at her. So gain that knowledge of what Jane Prentiss had become.

Her hair was long and dark. It might’ve been black, but it was so filthy that it really could have been any color. She wore a gray overcoat, and that looked like it might have been the only thing she was wearing. There were little circles all over her arms and legs, holes that matched up with the familiar scars that Jon and Tim had been covered in and that had spotted around Sasha's calves. Webs were caught in her hair and around her, and it was only then, staring at them, that Sasha wondered why there were so many webs here. The Corruption was any bug but spiders. Had the Web trapped Prentiss here? Or… had the Web been holding her here, to be released when one of the assistants came? Was Sasha just following a plan the Web had laid out long before?

Well, it didn’t matter now. 

The fire extinguishers were heavy, and Sasha was relieved to get the bag she’d been carrying them in off of her shoulder. She set the two extinguishers down in front of her and then lifted one, pointing it at Jane Prentiss. It did mean she had to up down her phone, but she kept the light pointing up so that she wasn’t left completely in the dark. The monster hadn’t moved the entire time Sasha had been standing there, didn’t seem to be aware of Sasha, which was the best she could have hoped for. 

When the CO2 was sprayed at Prentiss, however, the monster started to scream.

It was an ear-piercing, bone-rattling shriek that nearly made Sasha drop the extinguisher and put her hands over her ears to block out the sound. Still, she managed to keep spaying the white dust as the monster. Sasha had, however, shut her eyes at the sound, the scream that was ongoing, as if without her sight she could shut it out. She forced herself to open her eyes again just as she felt the sharp pain in her leg.

This time, it _was_ enough of a shock to drop the extinguisher. She looked down and saw the silver worm burrowing into her ankle, another close behind it. A swarm, a wave of worms were approaching her, all stemming from Jane Prentis, who was shuffling towards Sasha with a terrible, stuttering gait. 

Sasha grabbed the second extinguisher, glad she hadn't put her bag down. She didn't think she would have had the time to pick it back up. She first blasted her feet with the CO2, killing the worm that had gotten into her as well as any others that had almost reached her. She then turned it on Jane as, retreating backwards. The screaming started up again, and this time Sasha could hear that it wasn’t one being screaming, but sounded more like a hundred, like thousands of mouths open and letting out their pain. And there was something else to it, something almost… musical? 

Sasha was running out of space to back towards. The fire extinguisher she was holding ran out. Sasha cursed herself for not having been strong enough to another one or two to her supplies. It wasn’t over just yet, though. Tossing the empty exstinguisher to the side, she pulled out the gasoline and splashed it in Jane’s general direction. It was getting harder to see the farther from her phone Sasha was, which was covered in the white powder from the extinguisher, blocking most of the light had been providing. 

It took a couple tries, but Sasha managed to light one of the matches and dropped it on the gasoline. It went up quickly and Sasha grinned at the light and the burning heat - and then realized that nothing was catching as well as she’d expected. The fire seemed to barely even singe the monster that continued to move forward, continued to stagger towards Sasha.

If Sasha wasn’t busy running for her life in that exact moment, she would have groaned and buried her head in her hands. How had she forgotten that fire extinguishers were usually used to _put out fires_? She had essentially spent the past minutes making Jane immune to the next attack she had planned. 

As it was, Sasha didn’t have time to bemoan her lack of forethought, instead turning tail and climbing through the window as fast as she could. She didn’t dare look behind her. She just kept running through the snow, the dry cold air a stark contrast to the basement.

She had to get to her apartment. 

oOo

When Sasha finally reached her apartment, she wanted nothing more than to fall onto her bed and never get back up. But no, that would be foolish. 

She remembered Martin’s stories of those two weeks he’d spent trapped by Prentiss. 

Even if she hadn’t been prepared to take on the monster on a one-on-one fight, she did feel she could wait it out like Martin did. Some part of her had known that this was a possibility, but she had also truly believed she’d be able to kill Jane in the basement. Maybe she should’ve had Tim come with her and help, maybe all she'd needed was a couple more fire exstinguishers. At the very least she could have gone to the store and bought something other than canned beans and ravioli.

What was done was done, and now she was at her apartment, sticking socks under the door and duct taping the edges of her window sills. Could the worms eat through the socks and such? They had hollowed out the walls at the Institute. Probably. Had the walls already been hollow for some nefarious reason of Jonah’s, like the evil of being cheap when building a temple for an all seeing god of fear? Sasha was willing to bet it was that one. 

Sasha had intended to stay up late waiting for the first attack, but she was tired from fear and coming down from the adrenaline and from running most of the way to her apartment. She dreamt of Naomi and her graveyard. There was nothing Sasha could do to help her. She couldn’t move, could only Watch. Watch, and wish there was more she could do. Watch, and feel the fear, taste the fear, as it swelled through the air around her and the Eye took it in hungrily.

When the knocking came, it was dark out. Sasha had prepared well in advance, but she sat by the door all the same, watching the edges for worms. She turned around constantly, trying to see if any were sneaking up on her. There never were, but she didn’t want to risk it. She already had her ankles bandaged up - a total of three wormholes so far. She wasn’t excited to add any more to her collection.

She started rationing right off the bat, planning for the two weeks Martin had been forced to live through. The water still worked, thank god, but the electricity was dead. She tried pounding on the walls to adjacent apartments, just to see if there was anybody over there, but never got a response. Being trapped on her own separate torture dimension didn’t seem like it was usually in the Corruption’s wheelhouse, but who was Sasha to say?

She was trapped for three days.

Whenever Sasha nodded off she was back in the graveyard. She was always awoken to the sound of the knocking. At one point, she thought about trying to burn down her apartment and make a run for it, hoping that Prentiss got caught in the fire this time, but whenever she considered it she managed to convince herself that, no, she could handle the two weeks. Martin had survived this, she would survive this, and now she could be more open about her plans for when they get attacked at the institute. 

Sometimes, as Sasha waited between worm attacks, she’d start to zone out. Like the unfocusing of her eyes, but she was trying to unfocus a lot more than that. If she could unfocus, then maybe… At times, she thought she saw a door on a wall, when she was starting to Unfocus, a door she knew would lead the way out. Whenever it started to become anything close to clear, however, the knocking would start up again and all of Sasha’s work was for naught, her attention once again on the door and the monster behind it. 

And then on the third day, he came. 

It started with a low whining sound that at first Sasha thought she was imagining. It rose in pitch and volume over the next few hours, sending a shiver up Sasha’s spine. She Knew something was coming. Jane Prentiss didn’t let on if she heard it too or not, continuing to wait outside of Sasha’s door, knocking every-so-often. And then, like a dam breaking apart, the whine exploded into the air and with it came the heavy weight of being Watched, of a hundred and thousands of eyes staring down at Sasha. 

Sasha tried to turn her gaze up to it, to Stare back and challenge it, but she found herself recoiling. Not that she couldn’t have held out, but it was like holding a straw rope that was being pulled quickly through her bare hands. Maybe, if she tried, she could truly grasp it and really Stare back, but until she reached that point she would have had to live with the pain of it burning her hands and stripping them raw. Stripping her raw, to her core. 

Then, impossibly, the gaze shifted, and she Knew it was focused on Jane Prentiss. 

“Ah, Archivist, impressive trick there.” 

Sasha realized belatedly that that was Jane Prentiss talking. It didn’t really sound much like words. It was like wriggling worms and a strange music that somehow fit together into a poor semblance of speaking, not at all human sounding and barely understandable. Sasha also Knew she shouldn’t be able to hear the hallway as well as she was. Apparently another power of the Beholding was apparently ease-dropping. That sounded just about right.

“Get away from her.”

It was Jon’s voice. Or, rather, ‘Jon’s’ voice. He said the words lowly, like a growl.

“Come, join us.” Prentiss invited. There was the sound of Jon stomping, and Sasha imagined him stepping on silver worms that had started to approach him. 

“She’s mine, she already belongs to the Ceaseless Watcher.” Jon went on. 

“It’s not too late, not for the Corruption.” How Jane managed to make that sound like purr, like a sweet promise, Sasha wasn’t sure. It was enough to make Sasha take a step back and double check that nothing had gotten through yet. She might not like being bound to the Eye, but it seemed better than being a Flesh Hive. The devil you know and all that. 

“This is your warning.” Jon said. It sounded every bit like the threat it was intended to be.

There were familiar clicking sounds all around Sasha’s apartment. 

“She came to me.” Jane replied.

The air felt like it was getting thicker. She wasn’t out there, wasn’t Jane Prentiss, but she Knew that what being on the receiving end of all those eyes, the eyes of an impossible being, felt like. 

“... what are you doing?”

The intensity multiplied a thousand-fold, radiating from the hallway like the heat of a raging inferno. It felt like something was begging her, asking her for something, but Sasha didn’t know what and didn’t dare ‘give’ it. 

“Stop it… stop it now!” Jane screamed. 

The air was filled whirring. The begging continued, pleading, but not trying to take what she still refused to give. What was she refusing? Sasha wasn’t sure but she was better safe than sorry. Sasha took a few more steps away from the door as the intensity only grew, like the weight of the world bearing was down, like she was being stripped bare to her bones and examined. 

“Fine!” Prentiss screamed and it was like the bone-chilling sound she'd made in the basement. Sasha flinched even farther back and then took a brave step forward, “Have yours, Archivist.”

Like a light-switch was flipped, the pressure disappeared and Sasha sucked in deep breaths, barely remembering to take the time and Twist. She could hear the worms and Prentiss walking and crawling away from her door and something else from the other end of the hall approaching. ‘Jon’, it must be ‘Jon’. The ‘Jon’ Sasha had been so sure was a Stranger, but who had clearly displayed abilities associated with the Beholding. The ‘Jon’ who had replaced Jon just as Sasha ended up in the past. 

The ‘Jon’ who had just saved her from twelve more days of trauma. 

‘Jon’ stopped outside Sasha’s door, accompanied by heavy breathing. Eyes, light and gentle compared to the power displayed mere seconds ago, briefly looked her over and then moved on. 

He didn’t say anything, and neither did Sasha.

All around her apartment, as somebody had stashed firecrackers while she wasn’t looking, echoed the sound of tape recorders clicking off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit more of action than usual, but hey, Prentiss makes and entrance!  
> I hope you enjoyed! Please tell me what you think as the comments really make my day :D
> 
> If you want, you can find me on my tumblr [@browniefox](https://browniefox.tumblr.com/) for my personal blog and [@artful-browniebites](http://artful-browniebites.tumblr.com/) for my art :)


	10. Chapter 10

When Sasha didn’t show up Wednesday, Tim thought it was weird. 

‘Jon’, when he came in, seemed to think the same, keeping the door wide open and staring anxiously at Sasha’s desk. Apparently neither of them were going to get much done. Martin, at least, seemed determined to get work done, though he kept looking at Jon and Tim and Sasha’s empty desk with confusion and worry.

Tim had taken the day before - a pretty easy follow up of just meeting the statement reader at a cafe and confirming some facts - to think about Jon and ‘Jon’. 

He’d felt played, toyed with by the monster that had stolen, or taken over, or done whatever it was to Jon, to Tim’s friend. He’d spent years building some kind of trust and friendship with the prickliest guy in Research. Seeing how friendly Jon had become and made Tim almost overjoyed, like this was the chance he’d been waiting for, to really solidify their bond. To find out that it hadn’t been Jon for weeks, for months, that it was some monster that Tim had been joking around with and inviting to drinks… Tim had wanted to scream, had wanted to hit something, had wanted to grab ‘Jon’ and shake him until the creature told Tim what had happened to Jon, where he was, that Tim wasn’t too late to save his friend.

Wasn’t too late again. Hadn’t missed the signs a second time.

But then, there was Monday. It could be all chalked up to be the monster that looked like Jon had noticed Tim and Sasha’s clear disdain for them that Tim hadn’t been able to mask and Sasha hadn’t bothered, and put together that it meant they were onto it. And yet, Tim couldn’t shake the awkwardness of the encounter by the locked door, of ‘Jon’ readily giving Tim access to the tunnels, to the place that Sasha had insisted would be safe from literal prying eyes. 

And more than anything, Jon had seemed so legitimately sad and upset by Tim’s treatment of him. 

Tim decided he was going to keep treating ‘Jon’ just as he had been. If Sasha asked, Tim would say it was because he didn’t want ‘Jon’ to know they suspected he wasn’t who he said he was. But Tim knew, deep down, that it was because he still held out a bit of hope that this  _ was  _ Jon, and he didn’t want to ruin what they had been building if there was still that chance. 

(Not to mention, who was Tim to judge Jon for acting strange, when around that same time Sasha had started to become a bit quieter, a bit clingier, so oddly excited and happy each time Tim smiled.)

Tim tried to call Sasha a few times, each attempt to no avail. Finally, near the end of the day, their group chat (set up by Tim) got a text from her saying that she was sorry for not coming in, she had been sick all day and thought she might have a parasite. Tim frowned at the, but replied that he hoped she was doing well. Martin replied in much the same, adding that if she needed anything to text him. Sasha assured them she would be okay, just needed to take some time off of work.

‘Jon’ didn’t reply. ‘Jon’ stared at his phone, eyes wide, and Tim got up before he was even really aware of what he was doing and walked right into Jon’s office, putting a hand on Jon’s shoulder. There was a full-body shiver that ran through Jon, not quite a flinch, and when he looked up at Tim the man was once again hit by how green Jon’s eyes looked in that moment. Jon’s mouth opened and closed a few times before anything came out.

“I think we should take the day off.” Jon declared.

“Boss?” Tim raised an eyebrow and Jon shook his head.

“I think you and Martin should take the day off. I’ll clean up some things and then get going myself.” Jon more or less repeated. 

“Because Sasha is sick?” Martin was standing in the doorway to Jon’s office, looking as confused as Tim felt. 

“Yes, because Sasha has a parasite.” Jon said in a way that wasn’t terribly believable. 

Jon walked purposefully to somewhere else in the archive, leaving Tim and Martin alone. They looked at each other, and Tim shrugged and started packing up his stuff.

“Martin, do you think something’s been off with Jon and Sasha?” Tim asked. He knew that Sasha didn’t want Martin to get involved just yet, and Tim was on board with that, but still, it couldn’t hurt to ask.

“I mean, he does seem like he’s been more on edge the past week or so.” Martin said, which wasn’t exactly what Tim was talking about but he filed the information away for later. 

The next day, Thursday, Jon didn’t show up either. He did send them a text.

_ ‘I came down with a cold last night. Not going to be able to come in today. Please research into the Annabeth follow-up and the man whose brother disappeared in the woods.’ _

“Can’t believe they’re ditching us.” Tim huffed in mock frustration. Martin was worrying his bottom lip, looking at Jon’s empty office, and Tim had to stop himself from doing the same. It felt like something was up, something was wrong. First Sasha was sick, and now Jon too? He tried to text either of them separately, but ultimately got no response.

“Do you think they’re okay?” Martin asked. 

Tim wanted to say no, that he had a feeling something was going on with both of them. Had Sasha tried to confront ‘Jon’? But, no, Sasha had been gone first. Then maybe ‘Jon’ had attacked her? But then why didn’t she say anything to Tim? Wasn’t she trusting him about this now? 

“I’m going to see if I can find any more statements related to the Percy case.” Tim announced, standing up. 

“Good luck.” Martin offered. He clearly knew that wasn’t what Tim was going to do. Trying to find a specific case was nearly impossible.

There was an odd energy in the archives. It was weird enough yesterday when Sasha had been gone, but without Jon there it was… well, Tim thought he might be starting to understand what Sasha meant about the feeling of being Watched. Since Tim had started working in the archives, there had been a comfortable atmosphere, almost like a warm blanket placed over him. Today, though, that nice weight was absent. Tim found himself tense and stressed, and it took him a bit to realize he was anticipating something. Like he was worried something was going to take the place of what was now missing.

So, to escape it, Tim went down into the tunnels.

He hadn’t had a chance to explore them after ‘Jon’ had revealed them to him a couple days ago, but now seemed like the perfect time for it. As he managed to pry up the hidden door, propping it up and looking down at the latter that descended only six or seven feet, Tim wondered for the first time if this could be some kind of trap. If ‘Jon’  _ was  _ a monster, it’d be a pretty good trap, because Tim was curious enough to go down.

He hadn’t brought a torch with him, but there had been one in a supply closet that he now carried as he went down. 

There wasn’t a completely noticeable difference between the archives as they currently were and the tunnels, but Tim liked to think that there was still  _ something. _ Like how he was convinced that water that had once been warm and was now cold felt different than just plain cold water. The tunnels were just plain cold water, never having had the comfort that the archives should have, that Tim had found he’d come to associate with it.

For some reason, Tim had thought it was going to look like weird dirt tunnels made from weird dirt monsters that he was going to have to be careful or they were going to eat him alive. Instead, the tunnels were made of cement that eventually became what looked like clean-cut marble or some other kind of stone. It looked a bit hodge-podge, and yet very deliberate, like different pieces of elaborate tunnels had been used to make the one he was walking through now. There was something very familiar about it too, though it took maybe half an hour of exploring for Tim to realize what it was. 

“This is… Smirke.” Tim whispered to himself, turning about as if his torch would show graffiti on the wall that confirmed what he now suspected. Unfortunately, he didn’t find anything that just said ‘Smirke was here’, but he really didn’t need to. He was familiar enough with the man’s work that he was surprised he hadn’t recognized it sooner. There was something about the twists and turns in the architecture that just screamed Smirke once you knew what to look for. 

It was as Tim was looking around for that signature that he wouldn't find that he saw a cassette tape lying on the ground. He raised his eyebrows, looking around once more to see if there was anybody nearby. Nope, he was still alone. And there was still a cassette tape on the ground. Haunted? Perhaps. There was one way to know for sure. 

There was a fine layer of dust on the top of the tape, like it had been lying in the tunnel for a long time. It was labeled ‘05091997 Walter’ but also looked like somebody had scratched it on there more as a second thought than anything else. It didn’t feel spooky, but Tim supposed that if you could tell something was spooky right off the bat, there’d be a lot less statements in the archives. 

It was then that he looked down at his watch, and at the tunnels around him, and realized that he could barely remember which way he’d come from. He hadn’t thought to bring any paper or pencil to try and carograph the mysterious place, or even a ball of string to make sure he found his way back. He hadn’t expected there to be so many branching paths. All Sasha had said what that there were tunnels and magic eye monsters or whatever couldn’t see down there. 

Deciding it was best not to get lost, Tim headed back (hopefully) the way he’d come, determined to come back down more prepared next time, already putting together a mental shopping list of what he had at home and what he’d need to buy. 

The cassette tape sat innocently in his hand. 

oOo

Jon swore angrily - both in his head and out loud - the entire way to Sasha’s apartment. He had thought he’d thrown anything that might have endangered his team far enough into the archives that they wouldn’t find them, much less go out into the field and get in this kind of trouble again.

There was nothing to be done about it now. Jon was certain this was Prentiss again - she had made the same joke last time, after all - and he had no intentions of letting Sasha suffer for two weeks of fear in her apartment. He didn’t even entertain the notion that she wouldn’t be able to outlast Prentiss like Martin had. Sasha was smart and capable, she would have made the same kind of moves as Martin to assure her own safety. She was going to be fine. Jon wasn’t going to get there and find her dead body in her apartment, riddled with worms. 

He was going to save Sasha this time and that was a fact. 

Jon didn’t bother with getting changed or going to his own apartment, instead heading straight for Sasha. He wasn’t really sure what he was feeling at the moment. He was probably angry, the way his hands wouldn’t stop shaking, and trying to stop their shaking just made the rest of his shake. Then again, that could’ve been fear. What did Jon have to be afraid of? He was going to save Sasha.

He felt oddly removed from his emotions. Not like an unfeeling monster, just… maybe he was in shock? That this was happening? Things had been so good, had been going so smoothly! If he didn’t count Sasha and Tim’s odd moods from Monday, which he wasn’t. They were allowed to have off days. Jon couldn’t, though. Jon needed to at the top of his game. Especially today. Especially when, for the first time, he was going to need to save his friends from the dark fate that loomed over them every time they left the archives. 

Sasha’s apartment complex was fairly plain looking, not immediately feeling like ‘This is a place under attack by an avatar of the Corruption’, but looks could be deceiving, especially when the Fears were involved. He had to sneak in, if Knowing exactly who to buzz and claim he’d forgotten his keycard could be called sneaking. He also Knew which apartment was Sasha’s, but he had memorized where his team lived months ago so the information wasn’t really necessary. 

When Jon reached her floor - the third floor of the building - he could immediately feel that there was something off about it all. 

How did one describe the feel of the Corruption? Jon didn’t know if he had noticed the first time how it had some a distinct feel, a distinct presence. There was the musty, mildew smell that Jane Prentiss carried with her like a caution sign, of course, but that was obvious. There was also the thousands of tiny creatures like a thousand tiny lights. They didn’t have eyes, Jon wasn’t even sure they had anything close to brains, and yet it was like he could sense their life forces nearby, the fear they generated surrounding them like a blanket, like a calling card that this was the work of the Corruption, and to interfere would be to invoke their wrath. 

Stay back, other Fears, or else you best feel sure you can win. The worms are hungry, and avatars are most definitely not immune to producing fear. 

That was the thing, wasn’t it? Why Jane had bothered with the knocking game with Martin last time, was doing it this time. Oh, the feasting of her family, of her worms, was most certainly a priority, but as was feeding her God. How aware was she that that was what she was doing? That the fear of Sasha through the door was just as important as getting through that door and sharing her gift with the other woman? It tasted wonderful because it was the pleasure of the Corruption seeping into its monster.

Jane Prentiss raised her hand. She didn’t smile, not really, but what was left of the muscles of her face pulled the remnants of lips back, revealing filthy teeth, as she raised her hand to the door and bringing her knuckles down in a-

Jon jerked back to himself just before his own knuckles, raised to Sasha’s door, made contact with the wood. He could hear his heart pounding in his chest and he took one, two staggering steps away, blinking as he tried to come to terms with what had just happened. 

He was shaking again, Jon noted, and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes and sinking to the floor. Had he just been… mind controlled? Taken over? He always hated knocking on doors, to have him almost do it against his will… Jon wrapped his arms around himself. He Looked into Sasha’s apartment. She wasn’t in there. Or at least, not where he could see her. 

Right, right, Martin had mentioned that, hadn’t he? How he hadn’t gotten any kind of contact from his neighbors, but none of them had died either. The air here was thick with the stench of Prentiss and her worms and their fear, they were definitely here, Jon Knew that. A separate little pocket wasn’t really the Corruption’s style, but perhaps Prentiss was being elaborate about this. Perhaps she had some kind of connection to a Fear that let her do this. Or maybe the Corruption was always able to do something like this. The only personal experience Jon had ever had with the Corruption was Prentiss herself, after all. 

Jon kept his eyes closed, but tried to really Look at the door, at the hallway, looking for a break in the fabric, somewhere he could weasel his way into Prentiss’ trap. 

He ended up leaving at night, having found a spot he might be able to use to do… something. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was trying to accomplish, just that he could and that it was going to late a lot of energy. He considered taking a statement, but ultimately decided that he’d come this far without any (bar Holly’s) and he wasn’t willing to give up the streak just yet. Instead, he returned to the institute and spent most of the night reading statements, the musty and old fear being better than nothing, especially in such a large quantity. 

Even at the break-neck pace he was trying to read them at, Jon was careful to skim each and everyone first. That took a bit of concentration, as both habit and probably the Beholding itself wanted Jon to start at the beginning and read out loud until he was done, until the statement-giver was finished using Jon’s voice, even through writing, to relieve the horror and fear with which they had first experienced the event. But Jon refused to accidentally stumble across some statement Elias had left for him, so the effort of skimming was worth not ending the world. 

Early Thursday morning, after taking a quick nap, Jon headed back to Sasha’s apartment. There was a broom closet on the same floor, and Jon slipped into it so that nobody coming or going from the neighboring apartments would notice him. 

He already knew this was going to take a moment.

oOo

Jon had once seen a video of a man splitting a rock. He had metal stakes forced in a line, and each hit of the hammer seemed to do very little. It wasn’t until the last strike that the stone broke apart in a clean split all the way through.

That was what trying to get into Prentiss’ trap felt like. He got a basic feel of what he supposed to be doing, of trying to Look into the trap and that that would let him in, but as focused as he was, progress was slow. Almost painful, in fact. It was a ‘nice’ reminder that Prentiss had started to attempt a ritual at the institute. She really knew what she was doing.

He stared, and it was like visual white noise. The writhing of the worms in a mass, indistinguishable from one another. What was one worm on its own? What a lonely existence that was. But together, amongst each other, they could be more than their individual parts and how terrible was it for Jon, to be on his own out there, to be without his friends, secluded. He could join the swarm, it wasn’t too late, not yet, especially not with the Corruption’s ability to, well, corrupt, and how easy-

Jon growled and his eyes snapped open, banging a fist on the wall. Yes, there was also that. Whenever he seemed to really be getting close, that statement-reading feeling returned and his thoughts became, well, became a little muddled up in what he assumed Prentiss was thinking. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling, in fact Jon would go as far to say it was a bit of a painful and mentally scarring feeling.

But saving Sasha would be worth that.

Jon wasn’t sure how long it took him, but he knew when he finally broke through. It was like being plunged underwater. Plunged into the pocket that Prentiss had made and surrounded entirely in the Corruption. Well, Jon could survive being surrounded. He’d been through worse. And Jon could feel something separating him from Prentiss. His own power kept him from being totally consumed into Prentiss pocket, caught in it just as much as Sasha herself. 

He saw Jane, standing outside of Sasha’s door, And he Looked at Sasha in her room, right by the door, diligently watching for worms. Alive, blessedly alive. She wriggled uncomfortably under his Gaze but didn’t move from her spot. Good, Jon could breathe again. Now, onto what really needed his attention.

Prentiss was facing him, though it was impossible to tell where her eyes were, or if she still had them, and if she did, whether those eyes were looking at him or not. She ‘saw’ him, though, she knew he was there. 

“Ah, Archivist, impressive trick there.” 

Her voice was wriggling worms, because every single goddamned thing about her could go back to worms.

“Get away from her.” Jon said it quietly, hoping that Sasha wouldn’t hear him. He’d tell them, he would, just… not yet. Especially not so soon after Sasha having such a bad experience with the monsters that the Fears could make people into.

“Come, join us.” Jane said. She lifted her arms and spread them, and worms fell from the holes. She was surrounded by worms and they were slowly making their way to Jon. They weren’t in a rush. Where could Jon go, after all? Back into the broom closet? How long would he last in there. The Corruption was a persistence hunter. It could play the waiting game. A few of the worms got too close, and Jon stamped on them, relishing the feeling of killing a bit of Prentiss.

“She’s mine, she already belongs to the Ceaseless Watcher.” Jon said. He didn’t get any closer to Prentiss, just holding his ground, continuing to Stare at her. 

“It’s not too late, not for the Corruption.” A promise both for Sasha and for Jon. It wasn’t too late for him to just… give up. Give in.

“This is your warning.” Jon grit out, hands curling into fists. There were clicking sounds from somewhere, but Jon didn’t dare Look away from Prentiss.

“She came to me.” Prentiss replied. And maybe she had, but Sasha was Jon’s. He wasn’t going to fail her again.

And so Jon Stared at Prentiss, Looking at her, Seeing what the Flesh Hive had seen, what the monster that had once been a woman had been through. Reading her like a statement, and drinking in her fear. 

“What… what are you doing?”

Prentiss was scared. Good, Jon was going to need it. Was going to need every bit of fear she could give him. And he Looked closer. It was like staring at the son, and he reached out for something, anything to help him.

“Stop it… stop it now!” Prentiss screamed with hundred of tiny mouths that shied away from being Seen. Jon felt his eyes watering, a headache building behind his eyes, and there was something wrong with his throat, a sharp and blossoming pain. He reached out, there was something there, he could tell, something that could give him the hand he needed. 

“FINE!” 

The pocket fell away, the glamour, and Jon could see worms lining the walls, sitting in odd symbols. Jon stopped Looking and stumbled backward, hand going to his head, then to his throat, then to clench at the front of his shirt as his heart hammered in his chest. His head was spinning, but he grit his teeth, ready to start Looking at her again. He could hear the worms around him, crawling, writhing…

And hear them following Prentiss’ shaky and stuttering gait in the other direction.

“Have yours, Archivist.”

Jon stood for a moment, and then managed to get himself to go forward again, towards Sasha’s door. He stopped in front of it, breathing heavily, and steadied himself by placing a hand to her door. He Looked her over, and she was still thinking about the worm. Jon sighed. Good, not about him. She didn’t know he was here. At most, she knew that something had happened outside the door.

And then he could taste her fear, and knew she had a statement.

It took everything in him to leave the door, and if he was in a better state he would have run out of the building. 

oOo

Georgie looked up from her phone at the people around her whispering.

They had cleared a circle around a man shambling down the sidewalk with the grace of a zombie. The man looked exhausted, like he was barely awake enough to be walking. He was wearing a ‘What the Ghost’ sweater, which was the first thing Georgie really noticed about him. The second was the line of red blood on the man’s neck, the reason for the people’s talking. The man didn’t seem to notice the attention he’d garnered.

The third thing was that the man was Jon Sims.

“Jon?” Georgie picked up her pace.

Jon lifted his face and looked at Georgie, locking eyes with her.

Jon didn’t have green eyes. 

Before Georgie could do anything, Jon opened his mouth and spoke words that sent a shiver up her spine (fear, that was where fear was supposed to be) and an oddly fuzzy feeling all throughout his brain.

“Tell me about the End.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ngl i didn't proof read this one, just wrote and published it.
> 
> Anyway, hurray, Georgie is here! Just barely! 
> 
> If you want, you can find me on my tumblr [@browniefox](https://browniefox.tumblr.com/) for my personal blog and [@artful-browniebites](http://artful-browniebites.tumblr.com/) for my art :) Go check it out if you like Hollow Knight, I've been working a bit on a tma/hollow knight au :D


	11. Chapter 11

So Georgie, against her will, told Jon about the corpse, and about death, and about the months she spent without any emotions, and how fear still eluded her. 

She felt like she was supposed to be scared, having her ex draw the story out of her mouth. Recalling that terrible day that changed her life, changed Georgie herself, should have made her shake with fear. Instead, there was just an empty feeling accompanied by confusion and worry and curiosity. 

Georgie couldn’t have left her ‘conversation’ with Jon if she wanted to, but somehow she had managed to move them off to the side, no longer in the middle of the flow of people. Anybody who had noticed Jon before had moved on, and now everybody passed them by without a second glance.

When Georgie finally finished her story, Jon didn’t look much better. He still looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks and like he would fall over at a moment’s notice. His eyes, however, were more hazel than green now, and the intensity they’d held before was faded, clarity fading back into view. Like something else had been looking out through Jon’s eyes and was now retreating as Jon himself resurfaced.

Jon’s eyes fluttered as if he was seeing Georgie for the first time. He took a step back, then two, hand going out to Georgie, then to his throat (the blood well darkened and clotted by now), then to wipe down the side of his face.

“G-, I-I just-, I’ve got-”

Before he could run off, Georgie grabbed his wrist and oh, she recognized that look. How he didn’t try to pull away, just grit his teeth and shut his eyes tight but didn’t jerk out of the grasp. Jon had never been good about asking for a hand to hold, for a hug, for a kiss on the forehead. That had been among the reasons behind their break up, his lack of communication. 

“Hey, you’re not getting out of this that easily.” Georgie said. 

“You don’t want to be a part of this.” Jon said, clearly more to himself than to here.

“How about you let me be the judge of that, huh?” Georgie slid her hand down until she was holding his hand, their fingers slotting together in a familiar way that she had missed. Jon looked down at the sidewalk like it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. 

He didn’t fight her as she led them back to her apartment. He still had that almost-limping walk, and it made Georgie wonder if he was more hurt than just his neck. At least Jon had had the sense to put up the hood of his sweater and cinch it up so that people wouldn’t see the line across his throat so easily. He almost spoke a few times but seemed to think better of it, always petering out into quiet and nervous mumbling that in turn faded into silence. 

The Admiral noticed right away when they walked in and came trotting up to Jon instantly, rubbing himself against Jon’s legs and purring up a storm. Still, Georgie didn’t let Jon stop until they were sitting on her couch, the Admiral sitting in Jon’s lap and Jon’s fingers scratching around the cat’s throat. Georgie sat next to him, though both of them were sitting with their legs folded up and facing each other. She let out a long breath. Okay, how to start this. 

“Sorry.” Jon, in an insane turn of events, spoke first. 

“That’s a good start, but, and I’m saying this as nicely as I can, what the  _ hell  _ did you just do?” Georgie knew she wasn’t exactly being tactful, but she thought she had earned it after being mind-controlled or whatever. 

“I was taking your statement,” Jon replied, and then gave a humorless chuckle, “Not that it did me much good. All stale fear, like reading a written one.” 

“That doesn’t clear anything up. You realize that that doesn’t mean anything to me, right?” Georgie said, folding her arms, and Jon winced, still not looking her in the eyes.

“Y-yes, I know that. I just, ah, hm… did I tell you I got promoted?” Jon asked. 

“No, you didn’t. Still working at the Magnus Institute, then?” Georgie trusted that this was going to lead to some answers.

“I’m the new Head Archivist. I have been for a few months now, actually. And there’s, uh, the institute… look, I need to go.” And sure enough, Jon did look like he would have gotten up and left right then and there if it wasn’t for the fact that his lap was claimed by the Admiral and it would have been an actual crime to move the cat, especially since it had been months since he’d seen his second favorite person.

“Jon, there’s something spooky going on, isn’t there.” Georgie folded her arms. 

“It’s… okay, fine, I’m a monster, is that what you want to hear? You caught me when I was hunting and I tried to feed off of you like some messed-up fear vampire. Say good-bye to your dreams because now they’ll always feature me watching you relive that the cadaver event over and over again.” Jon threw his hands up in the air, and the words were like he was supposed to be angry, but they lacked any fire behind them. Whether that was because he was so tired or because he just couldn’t stir up enough of the emotion at the moment, Georgie didn’t know. 

“That’s… less than ideal.” Georgie admitted. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll see myself out.” Jon again looked like he very desperately wanted to stand up, but at that exact moment the Admiral stretched up so he could butt his head up against Jon’s chin.

“Jon,” Georgie said and finally Jon looked at her.

“I don’t know what you want from me, Georgie, okay? I don’t know what you expect me to do. Statements can only get me so far for so long. Your story barely did anything, and I’m going to have to feed or I’m going to die and I can’t die until I’ve done whatever the hell I need to do to make sure my friends stay safe and I already came way too close to someone dying and I don’t  _ want  _ to die Georgie!” And this time Jon’s voice raised, and the anger Georgie had anticipated before was there, but it wasn’t directed at her. He didn’t even seem to be aware of what he was doing when he stopped absentmindedly scratching the Admiral and instead turned his black-painted nails onto his own arm, red lines quickly appearing up and down the length of it. 

“Jon!” George reached forward and grabbed his hands, the movement sudden enough that the Admiral jumped down and off the couch. Jon flinched back, head ducked, breathing heavily. He looked like he was bracing for a blow. 

“... I need to go.” Jon repeated

“You owe me answers,” Georgie insisted, “And I want to help you. And I can’t help you unless you  _ explain  _ how you became… whatever you are now.”

“A monster.”

“No!”

“ _ Then what am I?! _ ” Jon demanded, standing now, his eyes green once more and the buzz from last time was back, the feeling of being watching, of the words being dragged from her. But Georgie didn’t even try to fight it. 

“A friend who is clearly going through some shit! And I’ve, I already lost somebody to whatever the hell it is that’s going bump in the night, and maybe I can stop another person from dying because of it!” Georgie shouted, standing as well, and Jon looked taken aback. He dragged another hand down his face. Still tired.

“... I need to go. But… meet me at the institute tomorrow morning. I’ll… explain more in detail then. I should be more…  _ full  _ by then.” Jon grit his teeth and said the word ‘full’ with as much bitterness as he could muster up. Georgie didn’t try to stop him this time as he walked out the door.

She tried to shake the feeling that it could be the last time she saw him, whether by the design of something greater than the two of them or by her own choice.

She had an out. She could not show up tomorrow.

(Georgie knew she would.)

oOo

When Sasha was sure that the Beholding monster that looked like Jonathon Sims was gone, she opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. The only sign that anything had happened there was a handful of silver worms, squashed to death on the end of the hall ‘Jon’ - Jon? - had been on. 

Sasha went back into her apartment, grabbed a backpack, and scooped Sneaks into it form where he’d been hiding under her bed. He mewed plaintively at the action, especially once the zipper was closed and the backpack was lifted off the ground, giving him no real stable ground. 

“Sorry buddy, but I’m not leaving you here.” She cooed, and he mewed loudly back at her. 

She was careful as she exited her building, still on the lookout for the Beholding monster. It had saved her, yes, but she also Knew that it was hungry, that after such a display of power it needed to feed. And she probably reeked of fear right now. Prentiss was good at what she did, that was for sure. Most of the past fews days Sasha had spent in her own fear, even despite how sure she was that she was going to end up okay, that she could survive the attack, and just being in the general proximity of whatever it was the Beholding monster had done… a shiver ran up Sasha’s spine just thinking about it. 

It was a Friday afternoon, so Sasha wasn’t surprised that Tim and Martin were still there. They, on the other hand, seemed surprised to see her. 

“Sasha, should you be back yet? Are you feeling better already?” Martin was upon her in a moment, fussing over her appearance and looking like he very much wanted to rush off and make tea but also didn’t want to leave her in such a state. Exactly what kind of state that was, Sasha wasn’t entirely sure. She hadn’t bothered to see how she looked in her mirror, and it occurred to her she was still wearing the sweatpants and tee-shirt she’d put on in an effort to have some kind of comfort. 

“I think… I need to make a statement. Or read a statement. Or… is Jon in?” Sasha asked, already Knowing the answer but wanted the verbal confirmation anyway.

“No, he got sick right after you did. He sent a text about it.” Tim was hovering just behind Martin and probably would have been closer if not for all the space Martin tookup. 

“I wasn’t sick, and I don’t have my phone, and I haven’t been texting you,” Sasha shook her head. She walked farther into the office and got to her seat, sitting down and putting her backpack down to release Sneaks into the archives. Given the chance, Sneaks ran over to Tim, brushed against his legs, and then ran off to Jon’s office. 

“Dammit, I knew something was wrong!” Tim swore, dragging his chair over to Sasha’s desk to sit down next to her. Martin seemed to decide this was as good a chance as any to run to the break room for tea, and honestly what Sasha wouldn’t give for a nice cup of Martin’s tea right now. “Are you okay? What happened?”

Sasha opened her mouth, about to reply, when the feeling of being watched settled over her like a heavy blanket. Or not, that was too comforting of an analogy. Like a heavy blanket, but the blanket was covered in ants. She hadn’t noticed the lack of Watching at first, the absence of it, but now she was all too aware. She was tempted to tell Tim about it, to insist they took the conversation to the tunnels, but… she Knew this wasn’t ‘Jon’, this was something else. Elias, if she had to guess. And Elias probably didn’t know that they knew about the tunnels yet. 

So Sasha grit her teeth, sucked in a breath, and recounted what had happened to Tim and Martin, once the man had returned. 

She told them about investigating the Vittery case, and the Jane Prentiss, and the three-ish days stuck in her apartment. She only vaguely referenced something coming and distracting Prentiss, playing it off like she hadn’t been able to hear every word he’d said, but she made meaningful eye contact with Tim in what she hoped was a clear message that there was, indeed more to this. 

As soon as Sasha finished speaking, both Tim and Martin’s phones buzzed.

“You, or, uh, P-Prentiss, she just texted us.” Martin said, holding up his phone.

_ ‘Archive and Archivist, all will be ours in time.’ _

“Well, I don’t like that.” Tim said.

“Wait, do you think, I mean,  _ you  _ weren’t sick, and Jon-” Martin started, looked at his phone and then up at Sasha and Tim with worry in his eyes.

“No, I’m pretty sure Jon’s fine.” Sasha cut Martin off before he could finish the thought. 

“But-”

“I think Martin has a point.” Tim said. “Martin, do you think you’d be up for swinging by Jon’s place and making sure he’s okay?”

“Y-yeah, I can do that, let me just, uh, grab my stuff.” Sasha and Tim watched as Martin started gathering his thing. Sasha reached into her backpack and grabbed the only other thing she’d thought to bring from her apartment, handing the small fire extinguisher she used to keep in her kitchen over to him.

“Here, bring this with you.” She offered. Both Tim and Martin looked at both her and the extinguisher oddly. “Some got into my apartment and I panicked and sprayed them with this. Seemed to kill them pretty quickly.” She’d already prepared this lie ahead of time, having been careful when giving her unofficial statement not to say whether any not of the worms actually managed to get into her apartment or not. 

“Thanks.” Martin accepted it, testing the weight before putting it in his shoulder bag. They made him promise to text them when he got to Jon’s apartment, as well as setting up a codeword to say so that they knew for sure it was him and not Prentiss steadily collecting all of their phones. 

Sasha swore she could feel the second that Martin left the archives. Maybe Tim didn’t have the same sixth-sense that she had, but he still seemed to figure out when Martin would be far enough away because he turned to Sasha, arms folded.

“Alright, what else went down?”

The feeling of being Watched had faded with Martin, although this time she was sure it was just that the Eyes had followed him. Still, the office, as small as it was, still made her uneasy. 

“Let’s get into Jon’s office first.” Sasha said. Sneaks was still in there, having made himself at home on top of Jon’s desk and trying to chew on one of the tapes that had been left out. Sasha sat down in Jon’s chair, which didn’t feel any more right to sit in than it ever did. Tim sat down on the other side, leaning forward and waiting for her to start talking.

But first, Sasha eflt the space around them, still wary of somebody listening in, of being Watched. There was the other Watcher, Jon/’Jon’, who had Watched them in the archives, but in doing so had also kept the Eyes of Elias off of them, that much Sasha was sure of. So couldn’t she just, fill the space up herself? Would she be strong enough to stop Elias from breaking through?

She could See Jon’s office, could Watch it, and then, without even thinking about it, she Twisted around them. Tim didn’t seem to notice it, but Sasha through her Watching Eyes could only see them talking about the worms. She wouldn’t  _ need  _ to be strong Elias to beat Elias if he tried to watch them. She just had to be good enough to trick him. 

“Okay,” Sasha said, letting out a breath and feeling even more tired than she had a moment ago, “So, I mentioned something drove Prentiss away.”

“I’m going to make a wild guess and say it was ‘Jon’.” Tim said.

“Yeah, how-”

“Oh come on, you go missing and then  _ right away  _ Jon says he feels sick and then does show up, and then you come back?” Tim pointed out and, yeah, Sasha was almost surprised Martin hadn’t come to the same conclusion. Or maybe he had? She had no idea what was going through the man’s head these days, and didn’t want to intrude if she could help it. 

“He saved me.” Sasha confirmed, “But he was all weirdly possessive about it, and the way he did it… it was a lot more like the power of the Beholding than it was anything from the Stranger.” She recounted.

“So you’re saying he might be Jon-Jon.” Tim said, sounding like he was doing his best not to sound excited by the possibility. 

“We can’t be sure,” Sasha pointed out, “But… I just, I do owe him a bit, now, but I don’t trust him, but…” She trailed off. She hadn’t been sure where she was going with this, just that she wanted to keep Tim updated with what she knew. Tim seemed to be thinking it over.

“I think we need to worry more about our workplace.” Tim said. Sasha raised her eyebrows but waited for Tim to keep going. He left the room and came back with one of the recorders in his hands, “Don’t get me wrong, I think we need to keep an eye on Jon, but if he’s making sure nothing happens to us, we’re kind of safe with him for now? As safe as you can get with a monster? I think we should worry more about the fact that I think there’s something else watching us too.”

Tim hit the play button, and Gertrude’s voice came through the speaker as a man recounted a tale about being watched, and how he had felt that feeling in the Institute. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly wrap-up from the last two chapters :) 
> 
> I also wanted to tell all of you that I do have a particular time when I am planning for the reveal to happen. After that, um... we'll see how far I get writing this fic lol
> 
> If you want, you can find me on my tumblr [@browniefox](https://browniefox.tumblr.com/) for my personal blog and [@artful-browniebites](http://artful-browniebites.tumblr.com/) for my art :) Go check it out if you like Hollow Knight, I've been working a bit on a tma/hollow knight au :D


	12. Chapter 12

Jon took the tunnels back to the institute. 

There weren’t people there, so he wasn’t at risk of slipping and taking another statement. Well, there was Leitner, but the man was either smart enough or cowardly enough not to approach Jon. Jon wouldn’t have felt taking the man’s statement anyway. 

It wasn’t like the Buried, where Jon had felt almost human again, but the distance between him and the Ceaseless Watcher that the tunnels provided was enough to assuage just a bit of the hunger. He knew, though, that when he resurfaced, all of the statements in the archives would not be enough. No, he needed something live and raw and terrible. He could practically feel the entity’s displeasure on Jon’s choice of feeding, and Jon himself had to admit it wasn’t exactly the most…  _ efficient  _ way to feed. 

Live statements taken by those not associated with the Institute - perhaps just those not dedicated to the Eye? - not only provided more energy, but Jon was able to feed off of them nightly. It wasn’t a lot that he got night to night, not with the meager amount of live statements he’d accrued before, but over six months it had kept his body ‘alive’. 

But Jon was already familiar with the path he was moving down, and he knew that every struggle and fight, every bit of humanity he was able to preserve, counted up in the end. It was letting the small things go that would be his undoing. And he didn’t doubt that, with time, Jonathan Sims would shrivel up and die and give way to something that was entirely the Archive. Jon would put that off for as long as he could, do whatever good he could in what time he still had. 

He had taken his time getting back to the institute. He hadn’t been sure whether or not Martin and Tim would have even gone to work while Jon was gone, and in all honesty Jon didn’t really care too much. He did want to get the archives in order, if only for his own peace of mind, but the place wasn’t the safe haven Jon usually viewed it as when he wasn’t there to protect it from Jonah. He did assume that Sasha had talked to them after he’d left, as shortly after leaving Georgie’s he’d gotten a call from Martin asking him where he was and why he wasn’t at his apartment. 

Jon had replied that he had gone for a walk, hoping some fresh air would help, and how terrible he sounded really helped to sell the whole charade of ‘I’m just a sick man who overworks himself’. It also helped that half of that wasn’t really a lie. There was also the text that Prentiss had sent that was, well, Jon saw a silver worm creeping speedily through the tunnels right as he reached the trap door to the archives. If it got too bad, he might have to end up taking the normal way, as appalling a thought as that was.

He managed to catch Holly again just as they were leaving and convinced them to give him another statement - using actual words this time and not just forcing it out of them. They were also able to do it formally in the archives (if any of his assistants had bothered to go into work, they had already left) where fear of being seen dropped considerably as Jon felt himself settle back into his domain. 

It was lucky that Holly’s life up to this point meant they had several different statements they could provide, and then that thought made Jon wince. There was nothing good about having experienced the horrors of the fears, he reminded himself. At first, Holly had agreed to giving a statement, but when it was over Holly didn’t stand and leave. Instead, they were staring at Jon with an intensity that made him as uncomfortable as human staring could these days.

“You remind me of my sibling.” They said in the same flat voice they seemed to say everything in. 

“... how so?” Jon asked, not sure where this was going. 

“They’ve also had to do some pretty terrible things since they… became as they are. If you need to Take another statement straight from its source of fear, seek me out again.” Only then did Holly stand, nod to Jon, and leave. 

Holly’s statements hadn’t yet gone into depth of what had happened to their eldest living sibling. Jon couldn’t tell if he was dreading or curious to learn what had happened between the eldest and the Dark. 

Even considering all the things the made Holly a poor source to draw fear from, the live statement still did its job of rejuvenating Jon. He wouldn’t go so far as saying he felt full, but he certainly felt far better than he had a few hours ago, maybe even better than he’d felt before he’d started to slip into Prentiss’ trap. He even treated himself to a handful of paper statements and before deciding to stay the night in the archives. 

He wished he could say he had a hard time falling asleep, but instead of being concerned with plaguing Georgie’s dreams he was far more concerned with meeting up with her again tomorrow and what they would say. In fact, as her statement had done so little for him, he had almost forgotten he’d taken it at all. 

It was only when he was standing there, in the classroom, with Georgie looking right back at him and totally ignoring the slowly approaching cadaver, that he was reminded that, oh yes, this was going to be his life from now on. Staring his ex in the eye and watching her relive this moment, the Ceaseless Watcher trying to draw the fear from her that would never come. 

“Did you fall asleep in your clothes?” Georgie asked. Jon couldn’t reply or look away. That didn’t seem to stop Georgie from asking questions all night. 

“Can you hear me?”

“Blink once for no and twice for yes.”

“Can you blink?” 

“Is the creepy eye outside the window always there?”

“Do you secretly have that many eyes in real life too?” 

“Is something supposed to be happening right now? Other than all of this, anyway.”

“Can the giant  _ eye _ hear me?”

“Hey, giant eye, blink twice if you can hear me!”

The questions and comments were of much the same caliber the entire night and Jon had no choice but to listen to them. It was kind of embarrassing, and sad, and hilarious, knowing that this would be how he was going to spend every night from here on out.

At some point, he was guided away from Georgie’s dream and returned to the porch. He was always facing away from the door, and he never knew if it was a kindness or torture. He wouldn’t know if the door behind him was open or closed, if even now there were large, spindy, hairy legs reaching out for him to drag him through the doorway. And Jon stood there for a small eternity, the fear he couldn’t help but to feel being offered up to the insatiable entity.

He was finally pulled from his sleep and his nightmare by a feeling of unease. He sat up quickly, his Eyes automatically seeking out the cause. He wasn’t too surprised to find Georgie walking down the stairs into the archives, although he had to wonder how she got into the building. Or he did, but not for long, Knowing that Rosie came in every day and Georgie had said she had an appointment with him and had let her in.

Jon cursed himself for not having thought to keep a change of clothes here yet and added it to his mental list of things he needed to start stocking. As it stood, all he could do was go into the bathroom and try and freshen up a little bit. It wasn’t great that Georgie was going to know he’d worn this outfit yesterday, all night, and was still wearing it today. In the past twenty-four-ish hours, Jon hadn’t exactly made a great impression considering it was the first time they’d talked to or seen each other in months. 

He was mostly used to his short hair again by now, but he still found himself at times trying to pull it back and finding there was barely enough to get a small and frankly awful looking ponytail together, not nearly enough to work with in any considerable sense. Still, at least he could flick some water in it and hope it would stop sticking out at odd angles. Alright, he’d had a somewhat-restful night and he was still pretty full and shouldn’t need to feed for a bit. This was going to go fine, no matter whether Georgie decided to stay out of this whole mess or if she stuck with him.

He should want her to stay out. He knew that. 

Jon made it to the main office to find Georgie waiting for him. He can see three different recorders already recording away. She took one look at his outfit and raised her eyebrows and Jon found most of his confident veneer and wall that he’d quickly put up crumble before her. Georgie has always seemed to have a knack for tearing down his walls, something that had both endeared him to her and frightened him.

“I ended up spending the night here. Didn’t feel like walking back to my apartment.” Jon ended up admitting, and Georgie scoffed.

“God, you’re still hopeless, aren’t you?” She teased.

“You have no idea.” Jon agreed, “Well, questions, you have questions, and I have answers. We can talk here if you want, or in my office, or even the break room if you’d prefer. Tim left his lunch in there, and he doesn’t come in until Monday so we can steal that if you’re hungry.” Jon offered. He himself was actually feeling a bit hungry in the human sense of the word, so he would probably scrounge around the kitchenette for something eventually. 

“Here’s fine.” Georgie said and plopped down in Sasha’s chair. Jon sat in Tim’s, which had been pulled up to Sasha’s desk already. 

“So… what do you want to know?” Jon asked. 

“Well let’s start with last night,” Georgie decided, leaning on Sasha’s desk, “You  _ said  _ that was going to happen, but was that actually you? With all of those eyes?” Jon sighed.

“Yes, it was me, but I can’t do anything during the dreams. Usually the other people in the dreams are so caught up in their nightmare to try and do anything about me watching them, but I suppose being caught in the fear of the moment isn’t something you need to worry about.” Jon explained, “I could answer your questions from last night now, if you’d like, but to be frank I can’t remember most of them.” 

“Neither can I.” Georgie admitted. “Well, this is my second encounter with this weird shit. Care to explain what it’s all about?” 

“It’s all ‘about’ fear, I guess you could say. There’s a proposed theory of fear gods. Most people agree that there’s fourteen or so. I ‘serve’ the Ceaseless Watcher, or the fear of being watched and your secrets being known.” Jon explained and then on a whim rummaged around Sasha’s desk until he found a sticky note and a pen, quickly jotting down a list of the main fourteen and putting a star next to ‘the Eye’ and ‘the End’. He tapped ‘the End.’ “This is the one you encountered on campus, some kind of person who was dedicated to the End, or the fear of death. It isn’t usually so active, since it always wins in, well, in the end.” 

“Okay, that… makes as much sense as I guess I could’ve hoped for,” Georgie nodded, “But I do have to ask…  _ why  _ the  _ hell  _ did you decide to serve a fear god?!” Georgie had sort of a ‘not mad just disappointed’ sound to her voice, except it was probably more like ‘I’m both mad  _ and  _ disappointed’. 

“I was tricked into it. You think I want to spend my days having to  _ talk  _ to people to  _ live? _ ” Jon defended himself.

“Well you can really start jabbering away if someone can get you talking,” Georgie pointed out and Jon almost replied that his ‘job’ was the exact opposite of that, “And you really have no choice but to, how did you put it,  _ feed  _ off of people?” Georgie was trying to get to something, Jon was sure of it, but he still didn’t know what it was.

“If I want to stay alive? Yes. I feed the Eye or it feeds on me - which it so kindly did when you woke up. Trust me when I say if I could, I’d get out of this. But I’m too far in now, and… there’s other people who it isn’t too late for, and things I need to do here. I… I know you don’t like to be reminded of what happened to you, and if you want… I won’t talk to you again, and you can pretend this didn’t happen.” Jon offered.

Georgie leaned back, looking at Jon, and he did his best not to try and See what she was thinking. 

“It used to seem safe, when I’m writing ‘What the Ghost’, to take these stories about impossible and paranormal things and find the truth in them, the logical explanations behind them and the parts that still didn’t make sense afterwards. It felt safer to look at all of it like that. But it didn’t stop you from attacking me, did it?” Georgie said carefully and Jon couldn’t help but to wince. 

“I’m sorry.” Jon said. 

“No, it’s, well, it’s not okay but I guess we need to move past that, huh?” Georgie shrugged and Jon blinked.

“‘We’?” 

“Yeah, we.” Georgie said and smiled, just a bit, at Jon. “I’m in this already, and I know when you’re out of your depth. I’m not about to start worshiping your god or anything-”

“I would literally beg you not to.”

“- and I’m not about to say that I’ll help you with anything you need, but if you ever need somebody to lean on, I’m still here for you, Jon.” And now Georgie was really smiling, head tilted just a bit to the side.

Jon blinked. And then blinked some more when his sight started to get blurry. He… he’d expected Georgie to get her answers and leave him, he’d wanted her to leave him again. Hadn’t he? So why did he feel so relieved? Why was he crying now?

He let himself continue to cry as Georgie leaned forward and hugged him, and they stayed like that for as long as Jon needed it.

oOo

“Good morning, Jon.” Sasha greeted him and checked that her thoughts were well-Twisted.

“Morning Sasha.” Jon greeted, smiling and waiting at his door as he got a ‘Morning Boss!’ from Tim and ‘Morning Jon’ from Martin. He nodded at that and entered his office. 

And then came right back out holding Sneaks.

“There’s, ah, hm. Did any of you drop a… cat?” Jon said, wincing at his own wording.

“Jon, how rude that you don’t recognize your own assistant!” Tim said, sounding affronted and grinning mischievously, “That would be our best ghost hunter right there, our little spy who can get into place with just looks alone! Mr. Sneakers L. James himself!” Tim explained dramatically. Sneaks mewed.

“Sorry, I was going to tell you, but then I didn’t want you to say no.” Sasha stood to take him from Jon, who just let the cat climb onto his shoulder - a habit Sasha had taught the cat back when he was small and cute and was a little bit harder to deal with now that he weighed considerably more and took up much more space on her shoulder. Jon didn’t seem bothered by it at least. 

“So… you were just going to keep a cat here?” Jon asked.

“I couldn’t leave him at my apartment, and I don’t want to go back there.” Sasha explained. Logically, she knew that the archives were more at risk of being attacked than her apartment, and maybe in a week or two she’d move back in, but for now she just felt safer at Tim’s, “I’m staying at Tim’s for now, after the Prentiss incident, but his apartment doesn’t allow pets.”

Jon nodded, reaching up and giving Sneaks little scritches.

“What does the L stand for?” He asked. 

“Lil’ Bastard.” Tim replied with a grin that made Jon crack one of his own.

And that, apparently, was that on that. Jon returned to his office with Sneaks and Tim high-fived Sasha. 

Sasha mentally applauded herself, feeling she’d done a good job of not staring at the scabbed-almost-healed line across Jon’s throat. She wasn’t as ready as Tim to just completely give up on trying to figure out what was going on with Jon, how the hell he’d managed to get so powerful with the Beholding in just that first week or two, but she did had to agree with Tim that Elias was probably more of a threat currently than Jon was. 

Not, of course, that Tim knew it was Elias he was worried about. What Tim had learned from Gertrude’s tape was that the institute was a temple for one of the fears, and Sasha knew that he had his suspicions that Elias was aware of this. Sasha was doing her best to continue and nudge Tim along the ‘Elias Sucks’ path, though he seemed to be taking to it well enough on his own. What exactly they could  _ do  _ about Elias was yet to be determined, but Sasha had already decided that the statements she was looking for today was going to be Eye related. They had a while until they needed to worry about the Unknowing, and they could spend it trying to deal with the prison that was the institute.

“Excuse me? Sasha James?” 

Sasha jumped, and she was fairly sure that Tim and Martin did as well.  _ Nobody  _ came down to the archives. It wasn’t a thing that ever happened. 

When she looked behind her, sure enough, there was a person standing there, nervously fidgeting with a stack of papers in his hands and looking around at the archives - which by all rights to an outsider should look like an abandoned library or over-flowering old book store - with caution. Well, it wasn’t as if the high turnover rate from Gertrude’s time wasn’t famous throughout the rest of the institute. Everybody seemed to know that  _ something  _ was up down here, but like with Artifact Storage, people knew better than to ask too many questions. 

“Yes?” Sasha said cautiously. 

“Mr, uh, Mr. Bouchard wanted to have a meeting with you.” The man said. “He said he wanted to talk to you right now, or if you want you can schedule a time for later.” The man held out the papers at that, which seemed to have lists of dates and times blocked out for when Elias was and wasn’t free.

Sasha didn’t respond right away. She’d been holding a pen, and now she was holding it in a white-knuckled grip. She Twisted, and then doubled over, clutching her head as ‘What the hell does he want’ echoed over and over and over.

“Sasha!”

Tim was at her side in a second and she grabbed his hand, using it to ground her as she stopped the Twisting. Careless of her, she knew. She’d have to be far more careful when she was actually in front of Elias.

“Oh, um, I’ll just, I’ll come back-” The man floundered about and Sasha shook her head as she cleared it and started a new Twist, this one less tight with circulating thoughts of ‘What does he want?’, much more polite this time, looping where another servant of the Eye would see it and hopefully take her at face value. 

“No, no, now is a good time.” Sasha insisted, sitting up straight. The man didn’t look convinced of this fact, and neither did Tim. 

“Are you okay, Sasha?” Tim asked, rubbing a circle into her back. Sasha nodded.

“I’m fine, just caught a little off guard.” She assured him, though Tim didn’t look very assured. She stood, taking a moment to mentally assess how she was feeling. Not bad, but not good either. After all, how good could she be when she was about to meet with Elias Bouchard. Douchard? Sasha considered slipping that into her Twist, just to hopefully annoy him when - not if - he tried to see what she was thinking but thought better of it. Better to not let him know yet that she detested him with her entire being.

She followed the man - probably one of Elias’ personal assistants or something - up and out of the archives. She didn’t necessarily like that the Watching in the archives had started to become comfortable over the past few months - especially when she still didn’t know what ‘Jon’ wanted them for - but Sasha definitely hated Elias’ Watching far more. It was the same feeling as when she was in her apartment and Jon had, apparently, just Stared at Prentiss until she went away, but there was something so cold about it, something that made her want to look over her shoulder and make sure she wasn’t being spied on. Which was ridiculous, because she  _ was  _ being spied on! By Elias Fucking Douchard!

Sasha forced herself to calm down. There was no point in having illusionary thoughts if her face said well enough how much she hated the man. 

The man darted off when they reached Elias’ office. Sasha stood there for a second, making sure she was ready for this. As ready as she was ever going to be. There was no point in taking the offer to ‘schedule’ a time, better to get it over with now, whatever this was. She raised her hand to knock but stopped short at the ever-familiar click. She looked down and, sure enough, there was a recorder sitting oh-so-innocent on the floor.

“Want in on this, huh?” She whispered quietly. The recorder didn’t reply. Sasha wasn’t sure if she still thought these were from Jon or were something else. She still felt sure they weren’t Elias’ doing. 

Sasha knocked on the door, to which she got a ‘Come in’, and when she closed the door behind her she left it open just a crack so the recorder would be able to pick up as much as it wanted to of the conversation.

“You wanted to see me, Sir?” Sasha asked, hoping her eyes looked wide and innocent enough to fool the man.

“Yes, please, Ms. James, take a seat.” Elias nodded to the chair in front of his desk and Sasha took it. “Is it alright if I call you Sasha?” He asked, and he smiled that cold unfeeling smile at her. How had she ever fallen for it? How had she ever believed here had ever been a genuine emotion behind it?

“Whichever you prefer, sir.” Sasha replied lightly instead of shouting at him. She couldn’t worry at her Twist, not when the stakes were too high that he’d notice something, so she dug her nails into her hand, “Why did you want to talk to me? Wouldn’t Jon be better to talk to?” Sasha asked. Elias shook his head.

“No, not at all. You see, it has come to my attention that you were attacked last week.” Elias explained and Sasha couldn’t help the flash of surprise.

“What? How’d you hear about that?” Sasha demanded.

“Jonanthon informed me about it over the weekend. He was very insistent that we update security as well as our sprinkler system, although I’ll admit I’m not entirely sure what that last one has to do with your attack. Jonathon said he believed it was Jane Prentiss?” Elias said. 

“Yes, that’s right.” Sasha nodded. She tried to remember if that was something Martin could’ve told Jon when he called him or further proof that Jon wasn’t who he claimed he was. Not that she really needed proof anymore, but it had become somewhat of a habit to collect the things that didn’t add up.

“I just wanted to check in and make sure you were okay. Do you need to take time off, perhaps?” Elias asked. Sasha’s fingernails bit further into her hand.

“No. It was an uncomfortable experience, but as you can see I came out of it fine. It shouldn’t impact my work at all.” Sasha informed him, trying to keep herself from coming off as clipped and not entirely succeeding. 

“Yes, you do seem to be quite capable. I must admit that you and your team down there have been doing great work, far better than Gertrude did in her time as the Archivist, especially near the end of her time.” Elias said, and he sounded like he was confiding in her with this, like it was a secret, and he said ‘your team’, not ‘Jon’s team’. 

“Well, Jon has been putting in a great effort with plans to organize the archives.” Sasha said, not sure if mentioning Jon’s name was throwing him under the bus or not, “I just do as he tells me to.”

“Except, of course, wherever it was you went that caused you to run into Jane Prentiss.” Elias said. He wasn’t smirking or anything, his face hadn’t changed, but the Eyes on her seemed heavier. Sasha’s heart skipped a beat.

“What, uh, how would-”

“I thought you would have known. I have Jonathon keep me updated at what statements you are all doing follow-ups on. I wouldn’t want to risk one of your running into something dangerous and not knowing before it’s too late. He may not always provide as much detail as I would like, but there has been nothing to do with Jane Prentiss before. Which means that you were doing a follow-up of a personal project.” Elias summarized. 

“Well, that was-”

“Oh, no need to defend yourself Sasha,” Elias placed a hand on the table, like he was reaching out for her, “I am aware that Gertrude wanted you to be the next Head Archivist. I was, understandably, worried that you would continue to care for the archives in the same way she had. For you to take the initiative to carry on work of your own, well, I must admit to being impressed by your work ethic.”

“Thank you, sir.” Sasha forced the words out. There was a smell in the air, sharp and metallic, and when she looked down her hand was bleeding. She let up on her nails and tried to put pressure on it with her palm. “I promise I’ll refocus back to the work Jon assigns me.”

“I see no reason for that. If you want to continue to work on side projects in your own time, well, just make sure to tell me when and where you’re doing follow ups. You aren’t the Archivist, of course, but this could be something… interesting, to try out. I just need you to promise me one thing.” Elias said. Sasha bit the inside of her lip. 

“What’s that?” Sasha asked.

“That you make sure not to distance yourself from your team.” Elias said, and he was still smiling, and Sasha wanted to punch his face in and claw his eyes out and scream at him. Because here he was, still keeping all of them bound here, and trying to play with her emotions and manipulate her again.

She didn’t do any of that.

Instead, Sasha smiled, and with absolute gente care slipped surprise and relief into her twist.

“Of course I will.”  _ ‘Because if I distance myself from my team, that gives you all the more chance to slip in and ruin their lives.’ _

When Sasha leaves, the tape recorder outside has become two, and both are now clicked off. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> almost 5k words my dude.
> 
> Also, again, I promise we're coming up on the reveal! probably another two or three chapter :D I hoped you like this one, and also I hope nobody is bothered by me squeezing Holly in there again. 
> 
> If you want, you can find me on my tumblr [@browniefox](https://browniefox.tumblr.com/) for my personal blog and [@artful-browniebites](http://artful-browniebites.tumblr.com/) for my art :)


	13. Chapter 13

“.. I don’t think this is working.” 

Tim stared down at his map, turning it about and then looking at the tunnels in front of them.

“Maybe if you turn it around one more time it’ll make more sense.” Sasha suggested. Tim stuck his tongue out at her but ended up doing it anyway. But matter what way the map was facing, it didn’t change the fact that there were three tunnels in front of them where the map said there were supposed to be four.

Over the past couple weeks, the two of them had been going down to the tunnels while Jon was reading statements instead of Sasha reading her own statements. She still wanted to keep researching, however, so she had started to take some statements with her at the end of the day and record them in Tim’s apartment. She’d found she usually slept easier after reading one, oddly enough, and woke well-rested. The nightmare, of course, persisted. 

Tim had been set on mapping the tunnels, which so far had proved to be an utterly impossible endeavor. At first, he had managed it well enough, but the further into the tunnels they ventured the less his map seemed to line up with their next visit. At first, Sasha had teased Tim about making mistakes and he’d roll his eyes and fix his map. It became clear after a few days, however, that it wasn’t his fault. 

It seemed too crazy to say that the tunnels were moving, were changing. Sasha’s personal experience with the tunnels had been slim. Jon never talked about them much in the few precious tapes Sasha has- that Sasha  _ had  _ of him. The tapes Jon had recorded at Georgie’s that she had let them borrow. Just borrow, though, always wanting them back. Each play of a cassette destroyed it a little more, and sometimes Sasha thought she could hear the wear of them, like Georgie listened to them over and over.

When Sasha had them, she listened to them over and over. How weird it was, hearing a voice you knew belonged to somebody who was dead, someone you’d never hear again. He said that he’d lived down in the tunnels for a bit, had talked a lot with Leitner, and he almost said something about the nature of the tunnels before cutting himself off and saying that he didn’t want that information falling into Elias’ hands. 

There was something about the tunnels that seemed like a tomb. Both in Sasha’s First Time around and this time, the tunnels seemed darker, supernaturally so. She wasn’t usually claustrophobic, but knowing that they could get lost in the changing tunnels seemed to bring it out in her. 

Tim seemed more frustrated by it than scared or really worried, though, so Sasha did her best to project the same kind of attitude.

“Do you remember which way we came from?” Sasha asked and Tim nodded.

“I mean, this is the only part that’s changed, if we go back from here, we should be good. Assuming that  _ that  _ wasn’t changed while we’ve been down here.” Tim said and Sasha did her best not to imagine them getting trapped. Did the tunnels always move? Maybe it had something to do with Leitner. They hadn’t run into him yet during their trips down, but Sasha figured it was just a matter of time.

“Maybe we should just give up the map thing and start doing that whole ball of yarn and just wander as far as we can.” Sasha suggested.

“Like the story of Theseus and the maze.” Tim recalled. “We don’t have any magic yarn in Artifact Storage, do we?” 

“I don’t think so, but I can ask Holly if you want. They’re pretty familiar with what we have.” Sasha offered. 

“Well, I’ll bring some yarn on Tuesday. For now, onwards!” Tim pointed dramatically forward into the middlest tunnel before dropping do the ground, placing his torch on the ground and erasing what he had written on the map previously to draw in the three tunnels.

“Yup, let’s go.” Sasha said, going for enthusiastic and falling very short. Tim stood back up and looked at her, concern creasing his face.

“Are you feeling okay, Sasha?” He asked and Sasha shrugged.

“It’s fine, let’s keep going.” She insisted, started to walk forward, but Tim put a hand on her shoulder.

“Hey, if you’re not up to it, we can go back. This doesn’t seem like a great place to be in if you’re not prepared for it.” Tim said. Sasha bit the inside of her lip. They had yet to find Gertrude’s corpse, which was really what they were looking for, even if Tim didn’t know it. What Tim thought he was looking for was just more tapes left by Gertrude, thinking they might lead to more information on what was going on in the institute. Sasha remembered having some of Gertrude’s tapes about Rituals, but she admittedly hadn’t had all of them. Maybe there _ would _ be something useful there. 

“We can keep going.” Sasha repeated. Tim looked at her, and then looked back at the tunnel. 

“I’ll keep going, but you should head back.” Tim decided.

“And leave you down here all by yourself?” Sasha raised her eyebrows and Tim shrugged.

“I mean, I was fine the first time, and we haven’t run into anything dangerous yet. If I’m not back in thirty minutes, you can come back down, guns blazing, but I’m going to be fine.” Tim said it like a fact. 

“I’m just a little creeped out-” Sasha protested one last time.

“And I don’t want to drag you through something spooky again, especially not so soon after the worms.” Tim squeezed her shoulder, “Why haven’t you said anything before?”

“Knowing you’re down here alone is worse than being down here.” Sasha said and rolled her eyes. To her, that was obvious. 

“Aw, you like me.” Tim teased. Sasha stuck her tongue out at him.

“I’m coming Wednesday.” Sasha said, “But, I guess taking one trip off wouldn’t hurt.”

“That’s the spirit!” Tim grinned and gave her forehead a quick little peck. She gave him a matching quick kiss on his cheek.

“If you die down here, I get your apartment.” Sasha reminded him.

“I’m not sure that’s how it works.” He said, tilting his head in mock consideration, “I’m pretty sure my landlord gets it.”

“I’ll duel your landlord for it.” Sasha replied.

And then, before she could convince herself to stay, she turned and went back the way they’d come from. Tim would be fine, and Sasha could still get in a statement today instead of reading it tonight. It was never a question of not reading a statement. She’d gotten really good at it by now. They didn’t really take any energy out of her to read anymore. As Sasha walked back to the institute, she wondered if that was why Jon could read so many too. He was still only officially doing three a week, but Sasha had a theory he was reading more. What was a little worrying of  _ why  _ he was reading so many. Was he doing his  _ own  _ research, and if so what for?

Sasha shook her head. One problem at a time, and she and Tim had agreed that that problem would be Elias and the Watching (again, Tim didn’t necessarily  _ know  _ about the Elias part, but they were getting there).

She knew when she was getting close to the institute when she saw the silver worms. She’d worn boots, great for squishing them, and did just that to any she ran into. She also kept the hand not holding her torch on her bag. Tim had the small fire extinguisher, but she’d bough dry ice, which was technically CO2, right? She had yet to test how well it would actually work against the worms, but it made her feel safer anyway. She was wearing thick gloves, and the ice sat in a little tub in her bag, and her plan was to just chuck it a bunch of worms if they decided to all gang up and attack her at once.

It wasn’t great, Jane Prentiss going after the institute again, but they’d won last time, and she hadn’t attacked Sasha or Tim yet. Sasha was trying to formulate a plan to also deal with that eventually, but they should have a while before it became a real issue. So far, it was just annoying that exploring the tunnels meant also having to deal with squishing some annoying worms. 

Sasha ascended the short ladder and pushed the trap door up, returning to the archives. The feeling of a Watcher - of more specifically Jon’s Watching (she hadn’t yet decided whether he was Jon or ‘Jon’) - hadn’t settled back in yet, so Sasha’s relief. Sure, Jon had been the one to show Tim the tunnels, but that didn’t mean she felt safe with him knowing what they were up to.

It was on her way back to the main office, where some statements she’d thought looked useful were sitting on her desk, that Sasha saw the door.

How she had never seen it before at first confused her, and then as she stared more at it it became clear why. It probably hadn’t been there before. It was yellow, at first a headache-inducing version of the color, but the longer she stared the more it mellowed until it was more like the lily that used to sit in her room, that she’d had for years and years but had ended up having to give away to Tim after she’d gotten Sneaks and learned that they were poisonous for cats. He’d warned her he had a bit of a black thumb when it came to plants, and indeed it ended up only lasting a year, pretty impressive for Tim, before dying off. It was wooden, and not distinctly not painted. The yellow was simply the color of the wood. The door knob was a dark silver, and Sasha found herself immediately reaching for the handle.

And then she remembered what a yellow door meant and drew her hand back quickly as if just avoiding getting burned. 

Right. She may not have the scar on her back anymore, and maybe most of her run-ins with Michael hadn’t all been that bad, but it was still Michael and not Helen, who Sasha had been infinitely closer to. Sasha’s last run in with Michael had been an… unfortunate one. It had been after Sasha had gotten kidnapped by Nikola, but before she was saved. Michael had shown up and jeered her about how it felt, running towards the Eye as if it would give her some kind of salvation. He had then laughed and left, saying he would be back to kill her.

He never came back. Instead, Helen showed up and saved Sasha and held Sasha’s face in her knife hands, trailing long and kicked lines down Sasha’s face, and told her she was sorry, and that she was fond of Sasha and the memory of Jon, and that Michael had just been a little ‘too close’ to the situation.

Now, in the present-past, Sasha knocked on the door and didn’t know what she was going to find. 

The door slowly swung inward and Sasha took a few steps back, a hand going for her dry ice. Dry ice probably wouldn’t do anything for the Spiral, but she didn’t have a knife - God, why was she always forgetting the knife?! - and even if she did, it probably wouldn’t do much either. Michael stood there, looking just as the Spiral had reshaped him into, the glove made to fit the hand that was the Distortion. He grinned, and the edges of his mouth twisted inwards.

“Ah, so the Archivist has finally deigned to open her door.” Michael said in his headache-inducing voice.

“Why are you here? What do you want?” Sasha demanded. It came out much harsher than she meant for it to. There had been a brief period of time there when Michael hadn’t been actively antagonistic to Sasha, and she wasn’t eager to bring the rather of another monster down on her, but, well, death threats tended to jade your opinion on someone.

“Oh, Archivist, playing games are we?” Michael laughed and his voice was like shattering glass, “You are the one who knocked, are you not?”

“You are the one who put this door here like a bear trap. And I’m not the Archivist.” Sasha pointed.

“Wouldn’t you rather we carry this conversation on in my hallways?” Michael offered and Sasha glared at him. “Aw, all of you Eyes are no fun, although you may still end up being the exception.”

“What do you mean?” Sasha’s hand fiddled with the lid of the dry ice box. Michael laughed again, shaking their head. 

“I do not need to mean anything, Archivist. I simply am, and sometimes I am not, and I do not need a reason for being either of those things.” Michael said, which was very Spiral of them. 

“Who are you trying to torture here?” Sasha tried once more for an answer, and this time Michael’s laugh was really something. In fact, they doubled over, grabbing their stomach, even though Sasha felt fairly sure there was no way they even really had lungs, much less would feel pain from laughing too hard. 

“I do have plans for the Archive, but I would be a fool to try and attack him in his own Domain! Perhaps the questions you are looking for is ‘Why have I decided to try and claim the same Domain as the Archive?’”

_ “What?!” _

“Hm, my thoughts exactly. What a foolish move, and one that leaves us vulnerable. I have no love for the Eye, but you do not seem to share this.” Michael observed. One of his hands stretched out towards Sasha and Sasha didn’t hesitate in ripping open the box in her bag and dropping one of the pieces of dry ice right in the monster’s hand. 

It didn’t do anything. 

Michael looked amused as he lifted the piece of CO2 between two of his fingers turning it this way and that. He looked back at Sasha, smile widening and threatening to split his face in two, and then dropped the dry ice into his mouth. The vapor came out of his mouth and flooded the hallway that stretched behind him, spilling into the archives. 

“If that is all, Archivist, you know where to find your door. You always will.” 

The yellow door swung shut as the Distortion left. Sasha reached to pull it back open, but stopped short when the general feeling of being Watched settled back in. No. Whatever this was, she didn’t want Jon seeing it.

Next time she was in the tunnels, though, she’d talk to Tim about it.

As Sasha made her way back to the main office, this time actually arriving at her destination, she stared at the statements on her desk and didn’t read any of them as the words of Michael ran round and round in her head. 

_ 'Her door.' _

Sasha reached for her surface thoughts and Twisted them.

oOo

“Goodnight everybody. See you tomorrow morning.”

Tim’s eyebrows raised to the top of his head as Jonathon Sims, over-worker extraordinar, left the office at five o’clock. 

“Are you feeling okay?” It was Martin who asked, brow creased with worry. Jon looked away and scratched the back of his neck.

“Yes, yes, I just thought I’d take the scenic route home today.” Jon said, which didn’t really explain anything. Well, it did provide some credence to Tim’s growing theory that Jon knew about the tunnels because he used them to travel, but it was also possible that Jon really did want to take a long way home. That could be for either completely mundane or villainous reasons, so it wasn’t too odd. 

And yet, now that Tim thought about it, he’d never seen Jon leave when the rest of them did. He was either in his office, or eating lunch with them, or talking with them. Either way, other than the whole thing that had gone down with Sasha, Jon was always in the archives. That was just an irrefutable fact of life in the archives. 

They were all already packed up essentially, ready to go home for the night, but they all stopped in those last minute preparations of stuffing papers into bags and bringing mugs and cups and plates back to the breakroom to all watch Jon out of the archives. He stopped at the edge of the office door, and when he turned around his face was very carefully composed. Tim wasn’t sure when he expected for Jon to say in that moment, but it certainly wasn’t, 

“Martin, would you like to walk out with me?” 

“Y-yes!” Martin said, quickly, dropping his the papers he’d had in his hands and they all fell to the ground, “Oh, shit, wait,”

“I’ll clean it up, you two head out.” Tim assured them, winking at Martin who became very red, “Don’t stay up too late, we do have work tomorrow morning.”

“I’m just walking him home.” Jon said with a roll of his eyes and twitch of his lips. Martin glared at Tim but also said a small ‘thanks’. Tim chuckled. 

“Aw, they’re cute together. Good for Martin.” Tim said. 

“Yeah, at this rate maybe in a year or two they’ll actually go on a date.” Sasha replied wryly, but there was something distracted about. She’d seemed distracted since Tim had gotten back out of the tunnels. He’d tried asking her about it, but she’d shaken her head and nodded over to Jon’s door. Something she didn’t want him knowing, not while they were still unsure whether they wanted to trust him or not. That meant she’d either tell him when they got back to his apartment, or she’d wait until Wednesday, depending on how much she didn’t want him to hear. Anything that had to do with Jon specifically was now tunnels only talk, but some things they talked about when Sasha said they were only Looked at occasionally outside of work.

“Like we’re two to talk.” Tim teased her at the expense of himself. 

“Hey, I have you right where I want you.” Sasha said, shoving a final statement into his satchel.

“Uh, bold of you to assume that  _ you’re  _ not right where  _ I  _ want you.” Tim shot back.

“Oh, yes, you totally sent a worm woman to my apartment just to smoke me out and give me no other choice but to live in your apartment.” Sasha’s voice was dripping with sarcasm, but it felt half-hearted, going through the motion.

“You sure there’s nothing we can talk about right now?” Tim sighed. Sasha shook her head, a hand grabbing her shirt as she stared down at the ground. 

“No, it’s too…  _ volatile  _ to risk somebody finding out. I’m not even entirely sure about it myself, but, there’s… we’ll talk about it Wednesday.” Sasha said, and Tim knew it was going to kill him for the next two days, not knowing what ‘there’ was. 

“Why don’t you head out and get some fresh air, I’ll finish packing this place up for the night.” Tim volunteered.

“I’m not glass, Stoker.” Sasha reminded him, “You don’t have to shield me from everything.”

“Yeah, but your day ‘off’ of the tunnels was supposed to lift your mood, not make it worse. So go step out of the building tied to an eldritch fear monster and I’ll worry about doing the dishes.” Tim said. Sasha gave him a small smile.

“Well, why you put it like that,”

“But that does mean you have to do the dishes when we get home! I can’t just have a low-life like you lying around the flat without pulling your weight.” Tim ruined the room and Sasha gave a small laugh. 

“Ouch, and here I thought you loved me.” Sasha put his hands over her heart. Tim finished putting Martin’s fallen papers in a stack and replacing them on his desk before taking his cup to the kitchen, turning the water on and wiping down everything in there. It didn’t take long, and he left them on the drying rack for the night. When he arrived back into the main office, Sasha wasn’t there and Tim nodded at that. Good. This whole thing they’d found themselves in seemed to have taken a toll on her. There wasn't too much he could do for her that would ease her burden, but he could do this.

Tim put his shoulder bag on him, pet Sneaks one last time and gave him a secret extra scoop cat food, checked to make sure he’d grabbed everything,

And saw Jon’s office door was wide open.

He hadn’t planned this, hadn’t planned to be alone down here, but then again had some part of him wanted Sasha to leave so he could do this. Tim wanted to say that this wasn’t preemptive, he certainly hadn’t thought that Jon would be leaving the office before him, but now Tim was alone in the archives (aside from Sneaks, of course) with the tantalizing chance right in front of him. Tim looked to the exit, knowing that he should be leaving for the night, especially with Sasha waiting for him, but, well, a peek couldn’t hurt, could it?

He knew the answer to that, and went in anyway.

Jon’s office, just like the main office, was a sort of organized chaos. Tim was vaguely familiar with Sasha and Martin’s different sorting systems. He had to be, because their stacks tended to end up falling into each other and becoming a weird amalgamation of each other's systems. Tim didn’t know Jon’s, however, and from the brief look at the stacks of statements it wasn’t alphabetical, by number, or by matching first words. 

There were two distinct stacks on Jon’s desk, though, that were much easier to tell what they were about. 

One was a copy of statements that Jon currently had them working on. They ranged from mundane to horrific, but that was par for the course of the archives. 

The others were all about the Stranger.

Tim’s first thought was ‘Oh shit, he knows we’re onto him’. His second thought was ‘Oh shit, do I still think Jon’s a Stranger?’. 

If Jon was a monster that had replaced Jon months ago, it made sense for him to collect statements that could end with his true identity being revealed. The thought sent a shiver down Tim’s spine. And while that had been Tim’s knee-jerk reaction, as he continued to flip through the statements, he found that that didn’t entirely make sense. There were two main kinds of statements on the second stack - ones that had to do with the two creepy delivery men, Breekon and Hope, who had already shown up in several statements, and ones that had to do with a traveling Russian circus. That one sent something completely different up Tim’s spine and he almost ripped apart one of them on principal before stopping himself. 

No, he had to be rational about this. 

This just meant that, it meant… what the hell did this mean? 

Tim let out a frustrated huff of air. He glanced at his wrist watch. Damn, it was getting late. He grabbed one of the statements from the bottom of the pile and shoved it into his bag. He’d look at it later. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day later than I had hoped for, but here we are :D  
> I should probably warn that school and such and going to start up soon, so idk what that's going to do to my update schedule either than 'probably fuck it up :/'
> 
> Anyway, get hyped, bc i have some great things planned for next chapter >:3c
> 
> Also, I made a little playlist for the fic :D [here ya go](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0dIwmTb53X5c5KaNyS1Gmn?si=Dc8yaHciSdiuh1pnBstlEg)
> 
> If you want, you can find me on my tumblr [@browniefox](https://browniefox.tumblr.com/) for my personal blog and [@artful-browniebites](http://artful-browniebites.tumblr.com/) for my art :)


	14. Chapter 14

“Alright, let’s get going!” 

Tim and Sasha had gone out shopping together Tuesday for supplies and now had a good stock of thin rope. Originally, they were just going to buy just regular yarn - Sasha wanted the rainbow color-changing one while Tim had been partial to the very soft and blue one - but just before checkout Sasha had pointed out it would probably end up breaking, so they went back for the rope. They did still buy the yarn, as well as some knitting needles and crochet hooks with accompanying guide books as neither knew how to do either of those things.

They’d also made sure to bring extra batteries, more dry ice, some snacks if they got hungry, and a cat toy with a lot of feathers on it. That, obviously, wasn’t for them, but a treat for Sneaks when they got back. What better way to recover from creepy cave crawling than to play with a cat? 

Tim tied their first rope around the base of the ladder, tugged it a few times to make sure it would hold, and then with a nod they were off. He had asked Sasha again if she wanted to stay behind, but Sasha couldn’t stop thinking about her meeting with Michael, the implications that had been dogging her every thought. No, she needed to talk to him today, where she knew nobody would listen in. 

Still, it took her a few minutes to gather the courage to dare. They walked through the first few familiar passages, so well trodden by now, and covered in the corpses of squished worms that they added to by squishing even more worms. Sasha frowned down at them. It probably wasn’t her imagination that there seemed to be more today than Monday. Tim led the way, holding the steadily-unspooling rope, while Sasha was given the small fire extinguisher this time, holding it at the ready for an unexpected worm attack.

“I found something on Jon’s desk.” Tim said just as Sasha was opening her mouth to speak. She was so surprised it took her a second to process any kind of implications from that before finally saying,

“You were snooping in Jon’s office?” 

“Not snooping, just… appreciating some time alone in the archives.” Tim shrugged.

“Monday! When you were alone Monday!” Sasha realized, putting the pieces together for once instead of just Knowing it. 

“I know we’re trying to focus on finding more of Gertrude’s tapes and dealing with the whole ‘Nowhere is Safe Creepy Watching Eyes’, but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. Anyway, more importantly, I found a ton of statements about the Stranger on his desk.” Tim awkwardly held the torch and rope in one hand so he could dig through his satchel and pull out some slightly-wrinkled papers. A statement. 

“Hiding statements, that’s all but proof.” Sasha said, almost more to herself than to Tim. She hadn’t wanted to admit it to herself, but she’d been hoping that Jon was Jon. Sure, that would mean he was creepy Beholding Jon and it really left more questions than it answered, but it would still be  _ Jon. _

“I don’t think it is, though.” Tim said, further surprising Sasha, and shoved the statement at her. She was forced to put the fire extinguisher under one arm as she skimmed the statement, just barely avoiding reading it out loud, “I mean, that  _ was  _ my first thought, but it wasn’t like they were particularly hidden. You said yourself that you thought he was doing research. I think that, for whatever reason, he’s researching the Stranger. Particularly, those weird delivery guys and the… the circus.” 

Sasha didn’t miss Tim’s pause over the word circus. The word came up several times in the statement as well, and it made Sasha sick and angry. She didn’t know what Tim’s personal grudge against it was. She knew it was something revenge-themed, but he had always refused to go into more detail, saying that it was his mission and he didn’t want her to get wrapped up in it. One of them needed to have a clear head about it. Not a lot of good it did Sasha now, seeing as she hated the circus with a passion. She had almost died there. Maybe she  _ had  _ died. She still had a hard time putting on lotion, and any time she thought her skin felt too smooth it was all she could do to stop herself from attacking it like it had personally betrayed her for that fact.

“That’s… weird.” Sasha finally settled on that word. It would make sense if Jon was trying to stop the Unknowing, but they hadn’t been told about that until years later. 

For not the first time, Sasha wondered just how much Jon knew. “What do you think it means.”

“I don’t know.” Tim admitted. “But it feels significant, right? It can’t just be a coincidence.”

“That we were thinking he was a Stranger?” Sasha asked and Tim shook his head.

“No, just, the circus…” He trailed off, that deep sadness Sasha had hoped never to hear again clogging his voice. 

They walked in silence for a bit longer after that, both unsure what to do with the information Tim had added to their pile. Sasha Knew that what she thought it meant was different than whatever Tim was thinking, but she didn’t try to Know anymore than that, at least about Tim. She did try to Know what Jon was doing with all of those statements, but it was like hitting a brick wall. She got nothing. She wasn’t sure if that was Jon’s doing or the tunnels, though. She’d try again when they got back.

With the empty space where words should be, Sasha was reminded of why she had come today, what she needed to say. She stuffed the statement into her bag so she could hold the fire extinguisher tight, like if her grip was tight enough she’d feel the courage she needed. All she felt was worried, though.

“Tim.” Sasha finally said, voice echoing slightly in the dark tunnels with its smooth walls. A certain tension Sasha hadn’t noticed until now dropped a bit from Tim as he gave a small nod. Of course, he must have been waiting for this conversation as long as she had been, even if he couldn’t have known where it would be heading.

“What’s up?” He asked, his voice light as if they didn’t have five different problems they were trying to deal with. But he knew, and she knew as well. She didn’t want to add more to it, but… keeping something from him would be worse in the end. She was still so haunted by her original Jon’s hoarding of knowledge. Maybe, if he had lived long enough, if he hadn’t been framed for murder, he would have told them something.

“If I was a monster, what would you do?” She asked. Despite having known they were going to have this conversation, Sasha hadn’t known how she was going to start it. Even now, she was plagued by a fear of Elias’ reading Tim’s mind and finding out about Sasha, what she knew, what she thought she was becoming. But she couldn’t live her life scared of what Elias might do and might know. She had to take the leap forward. 

Tim’s face was hard to see in the dark tunnel, but it looked like it was probably contemplative, and maybe a bit worried, but then again what wasn’t there to be worried about these days. 

“A monster like Prentiss or a monster like whatever Jon is?” Tim asked. His voice didn’t betray anything he was thinking.

“More like Jon.” Sasha said. Tim nodded slowly.

“I think… I would try to help you stop being a monster. If it was possible.” Tim said thoughtfully.

The thing was, Sasha knew how Tim reacted to the fears, to monsters, to things that trapped him and scared him. He became angry. He bared his fangs like he was trying to get the things in the dark to blink first. She also knew, in theory, how Tim reacted to knowing that his best friend was becoming some kind of monster. He sighed, and he held Sasha close, and he got an impossibly sad look on his face every time she picked up a statement to read, believing those were the root of it all. But that was also a Tim who had already lost Jon, and Sasha wasn’t about to rule that factor out. 

“What if there wasn’t a way to save me?” Sasha looked down at the floor, at her feet. She knew she was on the path to being something. She didn’t think she’d used any of her ‘powers’ aside from Twisting and a bit of Knowing since she’d Gone Back, but that didn’t mean she didn’t still have them. Like a worm, they were wriggling just underneath her skin. Did she have to be in the technical position of Archivist for them to really blossom, or was that just a formality? Was she already too set on the path for any help? Did she want to be helped? 

“I guess it would depend on what you were becoming.” Tim replied. He looked over at her, fave grave and sad, “Sasha… these aren’t hypothetical questions, are they?”

Sasha stopped and grabbed Tim’s arm. He tried to shift his hand to hold hers, but she shushed him and started retreating their steps.

“Do you hear that?” She whispered. 

“Sasha-” Tim started and Sasha shushed him again, putting her hand over his mouth. He, of course, licked it, and she wiped the spit onto his shirt, which he then tried to rub off onto her before stopping abruptly. He looked down the tunnel they had been heading. It split off into two different paths. There was a strange sound, almost like somebody dragging their feet on the stone floor, but like hundred of people doing it with tiny tiny feet. 

Sasha shouldn’t have beens surprised when a mass of worms, writhing and squirming and so terribly fast, came into view.

They started running.

oOo

Jon sat back, statement finished. There, his second of the week that was done all professionally. He read other statements during the week, he really couldn’t help it unless he wanted to start feeding on innocent people on his way home, but he still had only three that officially read. 

He had to admit that, as far as statements went, it was far more ‘filling’ when it had all of the follow-up done. True, if he wanted he was probably capable of just Knowing what had happened to the people in the statement after it ended, but it wasn’t the same as the research having already been done. Maybe it was just his imagination that it made the statement better, that having his friends’ work put into it made it that much nicer to read. 

He closed his eyes as he more felt than actively worked to ‘fill’ the space of the Archives, like he was settling back into it after all of his focus had been on the statement. Looking at something took effort, but like this he had a sense of them. He did Look into the main office, not terribly surprised to find only Martin sitting there, working on something on the computer. Something about him reading statements made Tim and Sasha leave. He supposed that, with the door cracked open, they could hear him reading and it was possible it scared them a bit, hearing it read out loud. They usually were returning about the time he finished reading his statement, having undoubtedly picked up on the fact that they rarely lasted longer than twenty-five to thirty minutes. Sneaks seemed to take Jon’s relaxed position as an invitation, jumping up to sit on his lap and purr loudly.

Jon wasn’t entirely sure what Sasha and Tim didn’t during that time, going deeper into the archives for it, but he wanted to try and give them their privacy. He may have a certain amount of control of his Domain, but he wanted it first and foremost to be a place where they were safe from Elias. Taking the spot of intruding Watcher wouldn’t ruin the point just a bit. 

Not to mention, Sasha and Tim? Disappearing to a part of the archives where nobody could hear them? It had occurred to Jon that they could be up to something a little, ahem,  _ unprofessional,  _ and he had no interest in seeing  _ that  _ going down. Ignorance was bliss and all that.

He continued to Watch Martin, thinking about two nights ago. Nothing had happened when they’d walked back to Martin’s apartment, but really that was the best that Jon could have hoped for. He let Martin talk about himself. Martin always seemed to have a hard time doing that, and Jon, if pressed, would admit that it was possible he slipped just a bit of compulsion in, just to get the ball rolling. But that was really all it took, just a little bit of urging, and then Martin was off like a shot, talking about good poetry he’d read recently and what kind of games he’d been playing and weird things that had happened during follow-ups. Some of it Jon had already heard before, both from the ‘previous’ Martin or during lunch in the break room, but the sound of Martin’s voice was always nice to listen to. 

It was hard for Jon to admit, but he wasn’t just walking with Martin because he longed for the closeness they had had during that month at Daisy’s cabin. The walk to the institute that morning, through crowds of strangers, had been more stressful than Jon cared to admit. The last time he’d been out in the middle of a crowd, he’d stumbled upon Georgie and taken her statement. He wasn’t eager for that to happen again. And while logically he knew that most other avatars weren’t really all that aware of him yet, being kidnapped so many times and then living in an institute constantly living in the threat of the other factions of fear attacking them had left him perhaps a bit paranoid. 

With Martin there, Jon had somebody to focus on. Somebody to ground him. His anchor. 

He’d stopped himself from asking Martin again on Tuesday, not wanting to seem suspicious or make the fact that he didn’t usually walk home the ‘normal’ way too obvious, but he would probably give in to the temptation again tonight.

“Jon?”

Martin knocked on the door, the action pushing the ajar door open a bit, and Jon’s eyes snapped open, not having noticed how lost in thought he’d gotten. A part of Jon wondered if his thoughts were something the Eye fed on as well, if him getting lost in them would be a recurring problem, but quickly dismissed the idea. No, he’d done that since he was a kid. Not everything had to go back to the fear entities. 

“Yes, Martin?” Jon sat up.

“Well, it’s just, and maybe I’m making a big deal out of nothing, but Tim and Sasha are usually back by now.” Martin explained. Jon’s head cocked to the side. Yes, he had spent a while in his thoughts, and now it was overdue for them to be back from wherever they ran off to. He Looked in that deep part of the archive they usually returned from and found nothing there. 

Something cold swept through Jon as he stood up abruptly, forcing Sneaks to skitter off.

Something was wrong. Something was  _ wrong.  _

They weren’t in that cafe they liked to have lunch in sometimes. They weren’t at the nearest grocery store. They weren’t buying something from the gas station. They weren’t in the library - neither the one inside nor outside the institute. They weren’t in Ellias office - which Jon got a rough mental shove for his brief Look in there. They weren’t-

“Jon!” 

Jon’s cheek stung, and it took a second for him to realize that Martin had just smacked him. His eyelids fluttered as he drew back to himself. Martin looked scared, chest heaving a bit, and Jon shook his head, a hand resting on the attacked cheek. Jon Knew that Martin had been shouting his name for some time now while Jon had been lost in his focus of trying to find his friends. 

“ _ Where are Sasha and Tim?”  _ Jon asked, demanding an answer.

“The tunnels.” Martin replied immediately, too immediately, but Jon didn’t care at the moment. God _ damnit  _ what were they doing in the  _ tunnels?! _ After the Prentiss incident, Jon had told them to keep away from the tunnels until they were sure they were safe from Prentiss! He had made it very clear! He had-... He had completely forgotten to say these things out loud. He had thought them and had intended to say them, but at some point had forgotten. He wished Martin would slap him again.

Instead, something else occurred to him.

“You know about the tunnels?” Jon’s brow furrowed and Martin nodded, looking a little shaken.

“I saw Tim and Sasha going down one time.”

“Right, right.” Jon nodded. He stood and grabbed the fire extinguisher that he kept in his office. 

“Oh, is it go time then?” Martin ran out of Jon’s office, and when Jon got out there he saw Martin opening the bottom drawer of a filing cabinet and pulling out a bag. It had two full-size fire extinguishers, an axe, a pocket knife, the ever-reliable corkscrew, bandages, a torch, and cat treats. 

“What’s that?” Jon found himself asking.

“My go bag. You know, for what we eventually got attacked.” Martin explained, hefting the strap onto his shoulder. His usual nerves seemed to have taken a backseat now that he was in territory he’d been preparing for, “I’m not an idiot, you know. I’ve noticed that something’s been going on with you and Tim and Sasha. I don’t know why none of you think I can handle the ‘truth’ or whatever, but I though, hey, the least I can do is be prepared, right?”

Jon could have kissed Martin right then and there.

He held himself back.

“There’s no time to waste, let’s go.” 

oOo

“So… I guess we live in this dead end now, huh?”

Tim’s joke fell flat between them, but at least it was something. 

The good news was that the dry ice did seem to help slow down the worms, and they definitely didn’t like crawling through the vapor. The bad news was that they were almost out, and that it did little by way of actually killing the worms. They had used the kitchen fire extinguisher pretty early on to get past a sea of worms blocking their path, and then had used whatever was left to kill any of the worms that had managed to attack their legs. More good news was that they were both wearing boots, so that protected them somewhat. More bad news was that Sasha was pretty sure this was the end. 

The ‘eh’ news was that Tim had been unspooling rope the entire time, so at least there was a chance somebody would find their bodies. 

The worst news was that those bodies were probably going to be Living Hives. 

“Did you think it would end this way?” Sasha asked, stomping some of the approaching worms and tossing down the last piece of dry ice. It made the whole thing very atmospheric.

“The worms are a surprise. I thought for sure it’d be the circus, or maybe old age if I was lucky. But I guess death by fear monster is death by fear monster whatever way you spin it.” Tim said dryly. 

For a moment, there was nothing said between them. Just the sound of stomping and the worms crawling. There was something almost musical to their movements, and just the thought of it like that made Sasha sick. And yet, she couldn’t stop hearing the music they created. The sound might have been creepy and gross, but there was something soothing about the song, and if she paid attention she could almost imagine it was getting louder, getting closer. 

“Huh.” Tim said, and Sasha looked over at him. He was still holding the rope - a different one that they’d started with that had been tied to the end of that first one - and he was staring at it. At first, nothing happened, at then she saw what he must have seen and felt. The rope tensed for a second before falling limp again. Every few seconds, it would jump again, and each time it seemed to have more force behind it. 

They had to go back to stomping worms very soon after they noticed, but Sasha kept looking at it, watching it. What did it mean? Were the worms eating their rope or something? Well, so much for their bodies getting found. 

And then,

“Can I spray them now?”

“No, we need to save it for a bigger swarm! We can’t waste any of it!” 

“Jon?! Martin?!” Tim shouted, grabbing his rope and yanking on it. Somebody yanked back.

“Tim! We’re coming!” The response seemed a bit delayed, and it occurred to Sasha that with the echo of the tunnels there was no way to know just how close Jon and Martin were to them. Still, that wouldn’t stop the hope swelling in her chest.

“We’re here! We’re alive!” Sasha shouted. Her legs were tired, but she stomped with renewed vigor. The dry ice was almost completely melted and the worms were starting to pick up their pace again. They just had to hold off a little bit longer. 

It felt like hours later, but couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, when Martin stepped into view, heralded by a bright light that surrounded him like a corona. In his hands was a fire extinguisher, which he used to summarily kill the worms that were blocking Sasha and Tim’s access to the rest of the tunnels. Sasha had never seen somebody more beautiful than Martin in that moment and she almost cried. Instead of doing that, she ran as soon as Martin began spraying, Tim on her heels.

Behind Martin, holding a torch, was Jon scowling at them in a very Jon way. 

“You’re both idiots, you know that?” He said. “Coming down here  _ knowing  _ there were worms and that Prentiss would be nearby and on the prowl!”

“We can get a lecture when we’re back in the archives!” Tim snapped, probably more from the situation than due to any kind of anger to Jon. Jon flinched badly at the reprimand but didn’t say anything, just nodding. 

Jon’s hand that wasn’t holding the torch was holding tightly onto the rope. There was something off about Jon that Sasha didn’t want to look so deeply into but found herself trying to Know anyway. She didn’t hit the same wall as before, but instead just resistance. Jon’s eyes weren’t normally green, were they? She tried to tell herself that it didn’t matter right now, what mattered was getting back to the safety of the archives. 

They almost made it.

Martin managed not to use any more of the fire extinguisher until they got just a few turns away from the institute. It was there that the worms were densest, it would seem, almost a literal wall of them, squirming all over each other. 

“And they crawl, and they cry out in voices that should not be heard, and they beg and they die, not even the corruption immune to the final fear. But they do not die alone, they do not die isolated.” Jon whispered as Martin had blasted through the second surge. They hadn’t been able to make any progress. Every time Martin killed some worms, more filled the space almost immediately. 

The song Sasha had heard before was back, and almost deafening. 

“Oh fuck me.” Tim muttered, lifting his torch to point away from where Martin was spraying and instead into the tunnel ahead of them. A tunnel that wasn’t filled with just worms anymore.

Jane Prentiss, in all of her hole-ridden, worm-filled glory, stood before them.

Her mouth pulled back in what may have been some attempt at a grin but looked more like a snarl, if it looked like anything. 

“Archive and Archivist,” Prentiss said, one of her hands lifted and pointing towards them. Sasha stepped back and found herself stepping in worms. She glanced backwards just long enough to see that the tunnel behind them was filling with worms. Her heart was beating too fast in her chest. The music was flowing from Prentiss. It was choking Sasha. She tried to Twist, but it did nothing against whatever was it was Prentiss was doing. The song was so soothing. Sasha’s hand somehow found Tim’s and she gripped it with everything she had, “It will be over now.”

Sasha remembered the fear she felt when she almost died during the Unknowing, when everything had started falling to shit. It felt a lot like right now.

“No.” 

Jon stepped forward, almost into the worms. They weren’t attacking them outright anymore, rather just swarming in a circle around them. Drawing as much fear out in the moment as they possibly could. 

The music dampened as the sound of static filled the air. 

“Give in, Archive.” Prentiss said.

“Leave this place.” Jon said, and took another step forward. His voice was low and dangerous. The worms didn’t immediately spring at him. The other three of them slowly stepped forward with him.

Thousands of eyes were staring at Prentiss again. The worms screamed and writhed in pain. 

“ _ Come!” _ Prentis insisted. 

The thousands of eyes became millions, intense and staring and Knowing, trying to pick Prentiss apart and see what she was made of. 

“What the  _ fuck. _ ” Tim said. But he wasn’t looking at Prentiss, who was starting to shake all over, or at the worms, who looked like they might be starting to tear into each other. He was staring at Jon. The line on his throat had split open, and there was an eye there, neon-green, and hungrily consuming the fear from Prentiss.

And something was begging Sasha to help it. 

Prentiss screamed, and shouting, and started walking towards them, the worms seemed to remember that they were supposed to be eating the humans and not each other and were starting to advance again. Sasha definitely felt one jump up and bite her arm. It all felt far away, though, as she let go of Tim and grabbed Jon’s hand instead.

“Take what you need.” Sasha said, and in her own ears her voice sounded layered and weird. Jon didn’t look at her, eyes still staring at Prentiss, but she felt something tug at her, rip at her, and she screamed but didn’t let go of Jon, didn’t fight it. 

She was Staring at Prentiss. She was  _ taking,  _ in the most literal sense of the word, the statement of Jane Prentiss, and the statement of the Flesh Hive, and then something was grabbing her shoulders and shaking them but Sasha couldn’t stop Staring. 

Jane Prentiss was thrown through the air by some unseen force. Unseen, but now known. This was the power of the Beholding, the power it had gifted its Archivist.

The last thing Sasha saw was the eyes that dotted Jon’s face and arms, blood slowly dropping from where they’d broken through skin, before she passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, yall wanted a reveal, here's your reveal! OBviously they still need to talk about everything that happened, but the cat is now metaphorically out of the bag. I've had this scene more or less planned out for most of the fic and it came out alright :D
> 
> Also, if you haven't seen, I wrote a one-shot expanding on the scene wher archivist!sasha saw michael for the last time and helen for the first, so check that out if ya wanna :)
> 
> I made a little playlist for the fic :D [here ya go](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0dIwmTb53X5c5KaNyS1Gmn?si=Dc8yaHciSdiuh1pnBstlEg)
> 
> If you want, you can find me on my tumblr [@browniefox](https://browniefox.tumblr.com/) for my personal blog and [@artful-browniebites](http://artful-browniebites.tumblr.com/) for my art :)


	15. Chapter 15

“What. the  _ fuck.  _ Just happened.”

Tim’s voice sounded quiet in the tunnels. 

Sasha was in his arms. He had managed to catch her just as she had started to fall to the ground, and she was still completely boneless. He had checked her pulse, and she was still alive, but everything felt like it was a million miles away and Tim was having a hard time focusing on what had just gone down, so he kept checking her pulse as if it held the answers. It didn’t, but it was nice to know she was still alive, still there. 

Martin was standing next to Jon, or ‘Jon’, or whatever the hell the Eye Monster was. The eyes that had broken out all over him like the very worst kind of teenage acne had slowly, one by one, closed up and left red half-circles all over Jon, blood slowly leaking from them. The last one to close up had been the giant one on his throat, the only one not bleeding, and once again just looking like a scar. His two normal eyes were still acid-green and somewhat clouded over as Jon swayed slightly on his feet, staring down the way that Prentiss had been thrown. 

“... I’ll explain… later. Let’s get back, back to the archives, and, and... and Tim…” For a second Jon’s eyes darted over to Tim, and there was something completely terrible and piercing and hungry about them that made Tim tense up, ready for a fight. But Jon raised his shaking hand to his mouth and bit down on it. Hard.

“Jon!” Martin yelped and reached to grab the man’s hand but Jon shook his head, pushing Martin away weakly. After a moment, he spat his hand out.

“I’ll be in my, my office. Send H-Holly in.” Jon gasped out and then resumed biting his hand, leading the assistans back to the institute. 

With a grunt, Tim lifted Sasha and carried her in his arms. Martin still had the fire extinguisher in his hands, and although it was empty he still had it pointed in front of him like a gun. Tim had to admit it did make him feel safer. After Prentiss’ sudden evacuation of the tunnels, half of the worms had apparently just dropped dead while the other half had attempted to follow her. Tim didn’t not pass up the opportunity to squish any of the still live ones in his way. Martin didn’t either. Jon, on the other hand, seemed fine to just kind of trudge forward and ignore them, looking like he might fall over at any point.

Getting Sasha back up into the archives was a bit tricky, but Martin was able to help. When they finally got out of the tunnels, Martin wasted no time in shoving boxes of statements and random papers over the trap door and Tim didn’t stop him. He knew it would probably change, but right now he could not imagine spending one more second down there. 

They heard the door to Jon’s office slam shut, the man far ahead of them, and when they got to the main office there was a tape recorder sitting on Martin’s desk, recording away. Tim set Sasha down carefully on the couch they’d gotten for any visitors or statement givers - neither of which they’d seen since that first one. Sasha shifted, just a bit, and something in Tim’s chest loosened a bit at the further proof that she was alive and okay. Or, well, 'okay' wasn’t exactly right as her face seemed to say that she had had better dreams.

Not that she had good dreams most nights. Tim always felt her shifting in bed, and she always woke with something so sad and tired in a way that sleep couldn’t cure. 

“I, uh, I don’t know who Holly is.” Martin admitted.

Now that they were back in the main office, Martin looked like he’d shrunk to fit it. In the tunnels, he was like a solid wall, something stable to rely on, the hero of the moment. But now, standing right next to his desk, he looked like Martin again, the Martin who always sat there and brought them their tea and looked the other way at Tim and Sasha leaving at consistent times of day. He rifled through the bag he’d taken with him, setting things on his desk, including a recorder, as he tried to find something, and Tim raised his eyes at the knife and hatchet that were withdrawn. They didn’t look right in Martin’s hands. 

“I’ll go get them.” Tim volunteered. He felt tired rather suddenly, but Jon had asked them to get Holly. Maybe they would be able to shed some light on what had just happened. 

Holly had a certain kind of institute fame, which made it odd that Martin didn’t know about them, but not impossible. As much as people loved to gossip about Holly, just as many liked to ignore them as well as all of Artifact Storage altogether. 

As Tim trudged through the halls to the Artifact offices, he counted his blessings that he didn’t come across anybody. He looked down at himself and had to admit he was a bit of a mess. There were worm guts all over his boots. His pants were riddled with holes where the worms had tried and succeeded to chew through, starting to burrow into his skin. None of them were there anymore after pulling them out before they could get too deep and from being sprayed by the fire extinguisher. Still, some of the blood had bled through, especially on the edges of the holes. There were holes in his arms too, and it only now occurred to Tim he probably should’ve tried to patch up before leaving the office.

Artifact Storage was on the first floor of the institute, which Tim had always thought was the worst planning imaginable. If something was going to be underground, how come the archives got no chance of sunlight and not the storage room full of dangerous things? That’s not to say that the storage room didn’t have its own personal basement where the exceptionally cursed objects were supposed to be, but the Artifact offices had  _ windows _ . Tim supposed they needed something to help keep them sane. 

The Artifact team was bigger than the archive one, with ten different desks in the room. Only half of the people were there at the moment, but in the biggest desk, right in front of a large window, sat Holly. The legend of the institute. Their hair was pulled back into a poofy ponytail as they were scribbling down something on a piece of paper. One of those monkeys that banged cymbals together was sitting on their desk, and yeah, even Tim could tell that thing was hella cursed. 

“Holly Sterling?” Tim walked right up to them, and the few other people in the room started whispering as soon as they saw him.

“Justin is in charge of artifact receival this month.” Holly said without pause in their work, not even bothering to lookup.

“Jon Sims wanted to see you.” Tim replied and Holly’s pen stilled. They looked up, grey eyes staring at Tim. Where Jon's had been piercing, hunting, wanting, Holly's were oddly deep and devoid of any clear emotion. WIth a sigh, they pushed away from their desk. 

“Marlene, put the monkey back in storage, I’ll finish cataloging when I return.” Holly instructed. 

Holly didn’t say anything, just followed Tim as they made their way back down into the depths of the institute. They didn’t ask about Tim’s clear wounds, or why Jon wanted to see them, or why Jon hadn’t simply come himself. Sasha had once insisted that Holly was pretty fun once you got to know them, but in the moment Tim couldn’t see it. The most popular rumors about Holly were that they were either a) looking for a specific artifact and thought they’d find it in storage, or b) actually an artifact or connected to an artifact themselves. Tim wasn’t sure if he believed either of them. He wasn’t sure he didn't them. 

When Tim got back to the archives, Martin’s arms and legs were bandaged up and he was working on doing the same for Sasha, who still had yet to wake up. Jon had done something to her, that much Tim was sure of, but Sasha had also seemed like she’d  _ offered  _ to do whatever it was she’d done. Hadn't she said 'take what you need'? What the hell had that been about? 

What was his life coming to, that the Flesh Hive wasn’t the crazy part of the day, but rather his coworker’s reactions and retaliation to it?

“Holly.”

The door to Jon’s office slammed open and Jon's appearance was somehow even worse than he had a few minutes ago. He looked oddly desperate, that hunger from before still hanging off of him. The blood from the eyes was darker now, coagulated and quickly drying, but still very much there. There was also blood on the hand he’d been biting, which hung right by his mouth as if he was going to start doing it again at a moment’s notice. 

“I had a meeting with my sister last week. Will that do?” Holly asked and Jon nodded. The two of them disappeared into Jon’s office, the door closing completely behind them.

“So... post-murder sex?” Tim sent his guess into the empty and far too quiet atmosphere of the archives. Martin made a strangled sound.

When Martin finished cleaning the holes in Sasha and bandaging them up, he went over to Tim. Tim almost insisted he could do it just fine himself, but then realized his hands were shaking. When had that started? In fact, all of Tim was shaking like a leaf in the wind. Martin was sure, steady, and patient.

Tim took off his shirt and shucked off his boots and socks and rolled his pants up as far as they would go, which was just enough to show off every single hole he now had. There was an unsaid air of ‘we should probably have a professional check these’ but it was followed by an equally unsaid ‘nobody is leaving until we get some answers’. 

Sasha woke up after fifteen minutes, looking like her time passed out hadn’t given her any actual rest. Martin had a cup of tea waiting for her and she readily accepted it, sipping as they waited for Jon to finish up.

“Do you know what happened?” Tim had asked at one point, but Sasha shook her head.

“I mean, there was Prentiss, but what happened with Jon… I don’t know what that was.” 

They sat in relative silence for thirty more minutes, only hearing a vaguely muffled sound from Jon’s office. Holly, talking without interruption. Sasha stayed sitting on the couch and Tim ended up sitting next to her. He brought his bag with him, and in her boredom she ended up pulling the statement out of it, quietly whisper-reading it to herself.

Fifteen more minutes later, Holly left Jon’s office. Their eyes were red-rimmed, like they’d been crying.

“Holly!” Sasha said in surprise, standing up. Holly gave Sasha a nod.

“Sasha, it’s good to see you’re still alive.” They said seriously, “I’m glad you were able to get transferred.”

And then, just as quickly as they had come, they left, probably to go back to staring at the creepy monkey with cymbals. 

“I suppose I have some explaining to do.” 

Jon stood in the doorway of his office, looking considerably more awake than before. The green had finally faded from his eyes, or at least had mostly faded, leaving a mostly-brown hazel color behind. He still hadn’t cleaned up the blood on himself, but Martin was already approaching him with a damp cloth that Jon easily accepted. 

“I think we would all appreciate that.” Martin said, Sasha and Tim nodding along. Jon sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He walked over to Tim’s desk and grabbed the chair so he could sit in it. He sighed again, eyes darting around like they were tracking something none of the rest of them could see. 

“I didn’t know how to bring this up. We research monsters everyday, read and hear about the terrible terrible things they do. I didn’t want you guys to freak out or anything, and I… I don’t want to die.” Jon looked down at his hands, fidgetting with the new pink towel. Tim remembered the conversation he’d been having with Sasha, a conversation that felt like it had taken place years ago and not just an hour at most. She wasn’t looking at him, just staring at Jon with an unreadable expression on her face. 

“Jon…” Martin said but didn’t seem to know what else to say.

“I think it’s something to do with the Head Archivist position. I’ve started to become a monster, a thing like in the statements. I think reading them out loud does something to me, feeds me, and hearing live statements even more so. There’s been things I’ve been able to do, like forcing people to answer questions.” Jon looked art Matin when he said that, who gave a sharp intake of breath.

“You did that to me.” It wasn’t a question. Jon nodded sadly.

“I’m sorry, I just needed to know where Sasha and Tim were. I had meant to warn you away from the tunnels. I had plans to take care of Prentiss, but the new fire suppression system hasn’t been put in yet." Jon explained.

"And the eyes?" Tim raised his eyebrows. Jon blinked - luckily with just his normal eyes - and tilted his head to the side.

"I had...? Oh, I did. Um, uh, those, those are new.” Jon scratched at some of the little red half-circles absentmindedly. “I guess it’s just further proof that I’m a monster.” 

“You saved us.” Martin reminded him. 

“I’m not going to act like I’m excited to find out that my boss has been turning into a monster,” Tim joined in, “But Martin’s right, boss. You showed those worms what was what, even if I don’t really understand how you did it. I’m wondering what you did to Sasha, though.” 

“That, I can’t tell you. Not because I don’t want to, but because I don’t know it myself.” Jon admitted, “I just… I knew I didn’t have enough power to force Prenitss away from the institute on my own, so I just… borrowed from her. I’m not sure why it was her and neither of you, however.”

“I was probably just the closest one.” Sasha suggested quickly. This time, Tim was able to catch her eye and she gave him a subtle and unsaid plea. Right. They’d talk later. 

“So… now what?” Martin asked. 

“I suppose that’s up to you three. I… there's things I want to do, but I suppose things might be easier if you killed me. Safer.” There Jon looked at something far past all of them, something only he could see, a contemplative and sad look settling over his features. 

“Well, I mean, I can’t speak for Tim or, or Sasha, but I kind of feel… safer? Now? With you here and alive?” Martin scratched the back of his neck and gave a nervous laugh at everybody staring at him. “I-I mean, we know that Jon can go toe-to-toe if something else attacks us, right?”

“But I’m a monster.” Jon repeated, reminded them. And while such thoughts on Jon had been going round Tim’s head for weeks now, he frowned at hearing Jon refer to himself as such. 

“A monster who saved us from another monster.” Tim pointed out.  _ ‘A monster like Jon’,  _ Sasha had said. He glanced at her as he added, “And a monster who I’m friends with. Whatever is going on, we can deal with it as a team.”

“A team.” Jon repeated. “A team.” 

Sasha scooted closer to Tim, resting her head on his shoulder.

Maybe things would be okay after all.

oOo

“Alright, so let’s start with the fact that Jon was bull-shitting us.” 

This was first unofficial meeting of the Archival Assistants, or AAss as Tim had so lovingly named their group chat. It was two days after the Prentiss incident. Shortly after Jon’s brief explanation, he promised to put together a list of anything else odd he’d noticed about himself or the archives before the team went to the hospital. The doctors advised that they self-quarantine for a week or so just in case the ‘parasites’ they’d encountered had some kind of ill and unexpected effect. 

One day after that, Sasha had texted Tim and Martin with a location and a time.

And now here they were, in the tunnels once more. Both Tim and Martin had brought fire extinguishers. Sasha had resisted, but she had drought her entire knife block. 

“Wait, what?” Martin said, eyes wide and confused, looking at Sasha like she was going to reveal she was joking. She was very much not joking. 

“I guess I should start with that it’s not that I don’t think we can trust Jon, but I know he isn't telling us the truth. Or at least not the entire truth. So I’m not going to tell  _ him  _ either.” Sasha said, and yeah, it sounded really petty when she said it like that, but she thought it was fair. He had tapped into her power or whatever and hadn’t even bothered to tell her what he had done. 

“How do you know?” Martin asked.

“Because… okay, this is going to sound crazy, and insane, but I need both of you to stay with me here? And not go snitching back to Jon, not until we know what’s going on with him.” She waited until she got nods from both of them. “I’m from the future.”

You could hear a pin drop.

“Uh, sorry… what?” Tim’s eyes were squeezed shut as he dragged a hand down his face. “You’re…  _ what?!” _

“I know how it sounds, okay? It’s, it’s unprecedented, even in all of the statements you’ve read, all of the statements  _ I’ve  _ read, but I swear on my life that I’ve been through a version of this all already.” Sasha insisted.

“If you’re from the future, then…  _ what?”  _ Tim seemed to be having a hard time getting past that part. 

“Why’d you come back? Does, does the future get bad?” Martin asked, starting to wring his hands. Or, well, wring the top of the fire extinguisher that he was still holding.

“It did, but I didn’t come back on purpose. If I could do that I probably would’ve come back sooner. There was an explosion, and I kind of fell through a weird door, and then I woke up in the past a few months ago.” Sasha said. Tim opened his eyes back up.

“You’ve been suspicious of Jon for months. You really did know something was up all along.” Tim snapped his fingers and Sasha nodded.

“You remember how Jon was like that first week and back in Research, right? Well, my ‘first time’ around Jon was like that for the first year or so, and then after that he became paranoid… that doesn’t really matter. What matters is that he went missing and I became the next Head Archivist and started becoming - I, I am  _ still  _ becoming whatever he is.” Saha wrapped her arms around herself, refusing to look either of them in the eye, not wanting to see their judgemental gazes. 

“Sasha,” Tim walked right up to Sasha, and she couldn’t stop herself from flinching when Tim touched her, but all he did was pull her into a hug, “We’re going to figure this out together, okay?” 

“I know, I know.” And she did know, but it still was so good to hear him say, this Tim in this hear and now. 

“So, then, the eyes…?” Martin asked and Tim pulled away enough that Martin could see Sasha as she shook her head.

“I don’t have those, or at least I don’t yet. I don’t know if I will. Elias didn’t exactly give me an explanation pamphlet or anything.” Sasha admitted. “But, here’s the thing I’ve been trying to get to: by all rights, I should be farther along to becoming a monster than Jon. I was Archvisit for a few months by the time I got here. But Jon is a lot more powerful than me, a lot more power than he was ‘last time’.”

“So even if he is what he says he is, he still isn’t telling us everything.” Tim summed up and Sasha nodded.

“I don’t know who he’s working for, or if he’s working for anybody, or what his motives are. I think we can trust him to keep us safe, he was the thing that saved me from Prentiss that first time, but I don’t think we should tell him any other plans we make.” Sasha said. 

“Plans?” Martin asked, and Sasha smiled.

“I’m from the future, remember? And there’s some things I know we need to watch out for.”

Sasha reached into her bag and pulled out two statements.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Truly, this was all build up to name the assitants group chat AAss
> 
> Alright, some things have finally been discussed and explained, but many secrets still remain! I will admit that from here on out, my plans for the fic are pretty shaky. I have an idea of where I want it to end as well as some plot points along the way - which so far involves Holly becoming a bit less of a minor oc, oops - and again, college starts next week, so updates might end up getting a little scattered.
> 
> I was overjoyed at how many people like last chapter, though! Seriously, all the comments meant a lot to me <3
> 
> I made a little playlist for the fic :D [here ya go](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0dIwmTb53X5c5KaNyS1Gmn?si=Dc8yaHciSdiuh1pnBstlEg)
> 
> If you want, you can find me on my tumblr [@browniefox](https://browniefox.tumblr.com/) for my personal blog and [@artful-browniebites](http://artful-browniebites.tumblr.com/) for my art, where I have a little doodle of Holly :)


	16. Chapter 16

“Okay, so, I made a list of things you should know about me.” 

Jon knew he must look a bit of a mess, but it had been a long two weeks of quarantine. He figured there must be some way that Elias could give employees a leave of absence that didn’t end with them dying. Jon wouldn’t know himself, because he went back to the archive daily, mostly for reading statements and making sure Sneaks was still fed and taken care of, as well as trying to look into if/who could leave the Institute. He had his theories, but so far his search was inconclusive. Apparently, Elias liked to keep that kind of thing under lock and key, and trying to Know things taht Elias didn't want him Knowing that had to do with the institute was a very literal headache. He’d also taken his quarantined time ‘off’ to clean up the dead worms in the tunnels. Most of them were already gone when he’d started, presumably by Leitner. He didn’t run into Prentiss, but he still kept his guard up, unsure if she was still down there somewhere.

Now, it was Thursday, everybody was back after their mandatory break, Jon had done his usual morning ritual of hearing their voices and matching them against the recording, and it was time to really get back to business again. Jon had made up the list after the first couple days, considered just sending it to the others over email, and then had ultimately decided that in person was the best way to handle all of this.

_Jon, The Archivist, Abilities and Warnings_

  * _Compulsion - forcing another to answer a question_


  * _Knowing facts I should not_


  * _Healing faster than most humans_


  * _Tape recorders - I believe these to be from me, and the tapes themselves tend to appear in my office_


  * _Seeing things happening in another room_


  * _The eyes? Apparently?_


  * _There is something else watching the rest of the institute_


  * _Language barriers don’t exist when reading_


  * _Live Statements should be handled by one of your three_



“Not a bad set of powers.” Tim whistled, looking the list over, “Do we need to worry about the whole Knowing thing? Like, can you know my bank account number?” 

“I’m sure if I tried I could, but why would I steal yours when I could find out Elias’?” Jon replied easily, having already half-expected a question like it. Tim nodded respectfully, “Although, I will warn that control of the ability is still something I’ve been working on. Most of the time Knowing things just comes to me at random. For instance, Tim, the plumber who fixed the problem with your bathroom sink when you were five is currently visiting his wife, who has come down with dementia.” 

As it always did, the ‘free Knowledge’ came without any effort on Jon’s part. The details clearly didn’t make Tim feel any more comfortable with his boss being a monster, but he also still didn’t seem to be a part of some ‘Jon is a Monster to Kill’ club. Again, Jon considered the merits of Jon himself simply dying, but again reminded himself that, with or without him, Jonah would try and go through with the Crown. 

“I’ve noticed the tape recorders.” Sasha said, tapping the bullet point with a finger, “You have the tapes?” There’s a kind of pointed edge to the question that doesn’t surprise Jon in the slightest as he nods.

“Any that have, ah, appeared throughout the day tend to return to my office. I usually keep them in a drawer and at the end of the week toss them, unless I see something that is my own. You’re welcome to look through what I currently have. I’ve done my best to consider your privacy.” Jon assured her, and it was true. He never listened to the tapes labed ‘Sasha’ or ‘Tim in BR’ or the handful of recent odd ones simply titled ‘AAss’ that, alright, he had _started_ to listen to but upon hearing Sasha’s voice turned it off. No, he was going to be as respectful as a knowledge-fear-eater could be with people in his Domain.

“Why is ‘eyes’ just written here with no other explanation?” Martin asked. Jon sighed.

“Because, just as before, I have none to give. Whatever it was that brought them out, I guess I’m not doing it now? They don’t seem like they’re… ‘real’.” Jon really had no idea how to explain. He was covered in those little half-circles, and he recognizes where they had chosen to pop up. They line up exactly with the scars he used to bare. Namely the worm scars, but there is the one across his throat from Daisy and one on his stomach from Michael, and a scattered few on the palm of his hand surrounding one large eye where Jude had once held his hand and burned him.

After the first day or so, when they’d finished healing up, he’d poked and prodded at where the eyes would be. It didn’t feel like trying to poke his eye, and the skin didn’t move up when he tried to lift the ‘eyelids’. He did assume, however, if he were to use his powers to a great degree they’d open up again. 

“You probably didn’t have to write ‘eyes’, we all saw them.” Tim agreed with Martin.

“I wanted to be thorough in my warning of what you should look out for about me.” Jon said, perhaps just a bit snappishly, but oddly enough that seemed to please Tim as he grinned at Jon. Jon opened his mouth, ready to say some kind of retort, but stopped when he Saw somebody stepping down the staircase of the archives. 

She always wore boots, or those sneakers that seemed really big and added almost an entire inch to her height. It was the boots today, and they thump on the wooden stairs. She doesn’t have glasses. Why would she? She had 20/20 vision. There’s a joke there, somewhere, that Jon doesn’t want to parse out. Her hair is dyed purple, freshly so, no roots showing. She has her jean jacket on, Ghost Hunk UK on the back. It was handmade with Georgie’s help. 

Jon did not think about this.

“Jon? You till there boss?” Jon blinked, becoming aware of his immediate surrounding again as Tim waves a hand in his face

“I, uh, there’s, hm. Sasha, could you take another statement?” Jon asked, knowing they were running out of time. She had finished descending the stairs and was now talking the straight-shot hallway to the main office. 

“... yes, I can do that.” Sasha said slowly and carefully, a thoughtful expression on her face. Jon would have worried about that if Melanie King hadn’t just walked through the doorway. 

He found himself bracing for the normal greeting of barb-like teasing. Since she had lost her vision, they had become somewhat of friends, although bullet or no they still had a way of getting on each other’s nerves, and really every call was a test of wills of who would give in first. It was a game in a way, and one Jon intended on winning. 

“This is the Archives, right?” Melanie said, looking at each and every one of them with no familiarity, no recognition. 

How had he forgotten that for Melanie, it had all started with her giving her statement? He didn’t want to reject her statement. He had a feeling nothing good would come of that, both if it got back to Elias (really, it was only a matter of time before everything did, a reminder that Jon needed to work faster, harder) and for Melanie. Being told her statement wasn’t important would only lead to her to look for proof with new vigor and less heed to her own wellbeing. But it sent without saying that Jon didn’t want to add another to his nightmares - really, Georgie was the best he could’ve hoped for, all things considered - and last on the list of people was Melanie King. Actually, no, last on the list was Daisy, but both did have a chance of seeking Jon out after he started appearing in his dreams and trying to kill him.

“Yes, yes it is M- Ms, uh,” Jon tried to walk forward calmly and professionally but ended up kind of stumbling forward, hand out for a shake.

“Melanie King.” Melanie replied and shook his hand, going so far as to offer a kind smile. “I was told you guys collect and research spooky stories, and I thought I’d see if you’d be able to help me with some follow-up on something that happened to me.” 

“Yes, of course. My assistant will be able to help take your statement.” Jon nodded over to Sasha, who was already standing and staring at Melanie. She looked a bit surprised, but put her hand forward to also shake Melanie’s hand as well. 

Jon resisted running off this time until the door to his office was closed with Melanie and Sasha inside. If he wanted, he could Know what was going on in there, but he wasn’t sure if Watching the statement as it was taken would count as him taking it in person. But if he stayed down here, he wasn’t sure he could help himself. 

“I need to go for a quick walk.” Jon told Tim and Martin before walking up the stairs, Seeing Sasha tell Melanie to take a seat, Seeing Sasha take out the tape recorder and pick out a fresh tape to put in. They were chatting comfortably, Melanie asking what was Jon’s deal and Sasha saying-

Jon left his Domain, and the weight of Elias’ Watching jolted him out of his own Watching. Jon sighed. Yes, that was the plan… but the part of him that was more avatar than human practically whined, immediately wanting to go and continue to Watch. Jon forced himself to look away. He already knew Melanie’s statement, so it probably would have been stale anyway. He tried to convince himself of that. 

He didn’t want Melanie to be a part of the archives, to be an Assistant once again. He could remember how trapped it had made her feel, how she had attempted to kill Elias with full knowledge that it would kill her as well. A dog twisting a leash in an attempt to get free, choking itself in the process. But where else was a better place for Jon to keep her safe? Where was safer than the eye of the storm, than the Archives?

Why had it taken Jon so long to remember - to _realize_ \- that he had so many people he’d left out in his plans to keep them safe? 

He hadn’t planned to go to Artifact Storage, but he ended up there anyway. 

The office was bustling with activity this time. A new shipment of artifacts had come in, if Jon had to give a guess. He Knew they tended to come in waves, and the first day or so was spent quickly and carefully trying to secure the artifacts. Justin, the second most senior team member, was in charge of receiving the artifacts and dividing the work amongst the team. The following weeks until the next shipment would be spent documenting the items and sometimes moving them to another place, but organization was second to safety if Holly had a say in it, although more than once their philosophy was overridden by an order from Elias. 

Holly, as the senior-most member of the team, was tasked with the items that came with vague warnings of what they might do or, in some cases, no warnings at all. Their desk had several books - undoubtedly Leitners - sitting in a stack. There were a few other objects, some as inconspicuous as a spatula and others with a more obvious sinsterness to them, like the sword in a sheath covered in engravings. 

“Unfortunately, I’m occupied for the time being. I hope you can hold off for a day.” Holly said, only barely glancing up to see Jon standing right in front of their desk. They had leather gloves on and tinted goggles strapped onto their head. They were currently holding one of the Leitner’s in their hands, something very careful about how they were looking at the front and back. 

“You should be alright reading a sentence. It will burn those who read it front to cover, from the inside out, but you should simply get warm with so little.” Jon blurted out, the Knowledge coming with ease as he stared at the books as well. Holly lifted their head and blinked at Jon, head tilting to the side and then slowly grabbing a pen, clicking it, and then jotted down what Jon had said as well as ‘1-2’ onto a sticky note they placed on the book. 

“Does that have to do with being the Archivist?” Holly asked, moving the book aside and pulling a clock with several other clocks in the face in front of them.

“A side effect.” Jon nodded. “I, I don’t need a statement today. I just needed to get away from… something.”

“Someone?” Holly asked and then shook their head, “Not my business. Can you do that thing on purpose?”

“It comes and goes.” Jon replied honestly and Holly nodded. 

“If you’re willing to help, you can stay as long as you need.” Holly decided. 

Jon stole a chair from one of the desks - empty both of items and a person, which Jon tried not and failed not to think about (Emily Jennings, 41, lost to ‘organization’ last week, funeral scheduled for the weekend) - and sat across from Holly as they sorted through the items, offering advice when it came to him.

oOo

In a science experiment, you didn’t consider doing the same thing over and over expecting the same results to be insanity. That was simply testing the theory, testing the results. It was expected and encouraged. 

So Sasha didn’t argue when Jon asked her to take Melanie’s statement. 

Sasha hadn’t realized she missed Melanie until the woman entered the office. 

It was clear she didn’t know or recognize any of them, not that Sasha had been expecting her to. Her eyes darted from one to another, taking them in curiously. The familiar deep glare she usually wore was not existent. She had come here looking for answers and help and had no reason currently to believe she’d be denied either. Sasha could remember their first meeting, leading Melanie to Jon’s office as the woman about her show and Sasha joined in with her own thoughts about ghosts. Melanie had left fuming about Jon. It wasn’t a rare reaction to meeting Jon back then. 

“This is the Archives, right?” Melanie checked, fingers drumming on the strap of her shoulder bag.

“Yes, yes it is M- Ms, uh,” Jon stumbled forward somewhat before bringing himself up to his full and not very intimidating height, straightening up and looking like he was trying to redeem himself some level of decorum as he put his hand out for Melanie to shake.

“Melanie King.” Melanie replied, taking Jon’s awkwardness in stride, “I was told you guys collect and research spooky stories, and I thought I’d see if you’d be able to help me with some follow-up on something that happened to me.”

“Yes, of course. My assistant will be able to help take your statement.” Jon nodded over to Sasha. She had stood when Melanie entered and she could feel her face flush a bit at her own awkwardness. Well, it wasn’t too late to redeem this second first impression. She smiled and also shook Melanie’s hand.

“I’m Sasha James. Let’s get into the Head Archivist office and get started, shall we?” Sasha offered, leading the way. Sneaks, who had been napping beneath Sasha’s desk, followed the two of them into the office. Melanie immediately started cooing at him and the cat sniffed her fingers curiously before starting to rub himself up against them.

“What a cutie! I’ve always wanted a cat, for now I have to mooch off of my friend.” Melanie said. Sasha Knew in a moment that Melanie was referring to the Admiral, the adorable cat of Georgie’s. She often forgot that Jon’s ex girlfriend and Melanie’s… what were they to each other, again? 

“His name is Sneakers, but we call him Sneaks. He’s mine, but he’s had to move in here after a problem with my apartment.” Sasha explained, heading to Jon’s chair and sitting down. She hadn’t moved out of Tim’s apartment yet, and her contract was actually starting to reach its end. It wasn’t something she wanted to think about just yet, though, “Uh, you can take a seat. I will warn you that Sneaks will probably claim it as his territory, though.” 

Sasha rifled through the fresh and new cassettes for an actual new one. Apparently Jon had thrown a few more used ones in there at some point, some of them labeled and some not. Did Jon need to label them, or did he just Know what each one was about. Sasha’s hand stilled for a second, remembering what Jon had said earlier about the tapes from the randomly appearing recorders. No, there would be a time later to see what Jon had. Right now she had a statement to take and a theory to test. 

“So, who was that other guy and what’s his deal?” Melanie asked, looking pleasantly surprised when Sneaks did indeed jump up onto her lap. 

“That’s my boss, Jon. He’s the Head Archivist. He isn’t exactly a social person, so I don’t think he much likes the in-person statements.” Sasha said. Neither of those were exactly lies. She didn’t mention that she’d never seen him actually take an in-person statement. Or, rather, not seen him take it the conventional way. Whatever he had done with Prentiss had been pretty far from just listening as a statement-giver told their story. “Anyway, enough about us, let’s get back to your statement.” 

Sasha slipped the cassette into the recorder and pressed play. 

“Statement of Melanie King-”

“Wait, are we really doing this on _that?_ ” Melanie asked skeptically and Sasha couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up. 

“I guess it must look kind of ridiculous, huh? But trust me when I say if your statement is for real, nothing else is going to catch. In fact, you can pull out your phone if you want and try recording.” Sasha suggested. 

“Huh, I’ve always thought that whole thing in movies about old tech being more sensitive to spirits was a joke.” Melanie said to herself as she pulled out her phone, opening her voice memos. 

“Well, you know what they say, in every lie has a grain of truth.” Sasha reminded her. “Alright, let’s start this again. Statement of Melanie King, regarding…?”

“An encounter at the abandoned Cambridge Military Hospital when we were filming there in January.” Melanie supplied. Sasha nodded, and Melanie told her statement. 

It was odd, hearing the statement again. There were things that made a little more sense now, that Sasha both knew and Knew as Melanie told her statement. The thing that Melanie had encountered that wasn’t ‘Sarah Baldwin’ was Slaughter-aligned, Sasha was sure of that. ‘Sarah’ was clearly a Stranger, and Sasha hoped that her clear distaste hadn’t shown too much during Melanie’s statement. It was interesting, the Slaughter’s reaction to the Stranger. Were there more places like that? Thought to be mostly-harmless but actually claimed by some entity or other? Would Sasha, as Eye-Aligned as she was, have to be more wary and careful of where she visited? 

“Well? What do you make of it?” Melanie asked when she was finished. 

“Quite a bit actually.” Sasha said honestly, looking down at the notes she’d made, “What you encountered doesn’t line up with statements I’ve already heard about hauntings at CMH. I’m willing to bet that you - or rather, Sarah Baldwin, drew something a bit more dangerous out. Something defending its territory from the assumed-attack Sarah was bringing with her.” Sasha saw no reason to try and conceal the truth from Melanie. She was plenty able to get into trouble on her own, and surely keeping the truth from her would do more harm than good. 

“That’s… huh, I hadn’t thought about that. And I’ve been thinking about that night a lot.” Melanie said.

“They took your information at the front desk, correct?” Sasha asked and Melanie nodded, “Well, just to be sure, why don’t you write down your phone number and email. My team will see what we can dig up, and if you find anything yourself, we’d love it if you could check in with us as well.” 

“Are you always so involved in statement givers, or am I just special?” Melanie joked, accepting the pen and paper and jotting down information Sasha already knew. 

“Eh, you’re special, but we do try to be thorough. It’s a lot of work, vetting the fake statements from the real. Honestly, live ones are the most important, as we can check their validity instantly.” Sasha patted the tape recorder with a smile. “Anyway, anybody who Sneaks like, by law I also have to like.” Sasha added, nodding to Sneaks who was still curled up on Melanie’s lap. Melanie gave a bright laugh. 

Had Sasha ever heard Melanie laugh before? She couldn’t remember. She didn’t know how the rest of this whole thing was going to go, but she hoped she’d get to hear it again.

oOo

Sasha Watched.

She could do nothing but Watch.

Naomi held tight to the top of her grave, fingers dug into the dirt and getting under her fingernails painfully. The fear coming off of her was as clear as ever. 

But Sasha needed to go somewhere else.

She walked, barely aware of what she was doing and definitely not able to control it. She was walking towards Naomi, but there was nothing she could do for the woman as she passed right by her, jumping down into the grave. 

Sasha did not find herself at the bottom of a grave, however. 

Instead, she was standing in an old and abandoned hospital, Watching as one monster skinned the other alive, peeling the suit they’d stolen off of the red and bleeding flesh beneath. The Stranger screamed in pain, pain it shouldn’t feel. The scream was not for the Stranger. 

It was for Melanie, watching as well, barely able to take her eyes off of the two monsters.

And then, when the Slaughter had no more it could take from the Stranger, it turned its gaze to Melanie.

With the fear at its peak, Sasha woke up.

(Somewhere else in London, Sasha Knew that Melanie woke up as well, heart pounding).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyway, Sasha and Melanie get along :) I imagine things were kind of rocky in the first timeline, considering everything going on at the time, but hopefully they'll have a good relationship here :D
> 
> I drew a little picture of Holly w/ color [right here](https://artful-browniebites.tumblr.com/post/626918296034344960/since-holly-is-going-to-be-recurring-character-in). Also, full transperancy here, Holly, their siblings, and the storyline they're going to be contributing are all heavily inspired by Hollow Knight, which is a great game.
> 
> I made a little playlist for the fic :D [here ya go](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0dIwmTb53X5c5KaNyS1Gmn?si=Dc8yaHciSdiuh1pnBstlEg)
> 
> If you want, you can find me on my tumblr [@browniefox](https://browniefox.tumblr.com/) for my personal blog and [@artful-browniebites](http://artful-browniebites.tumblr.com/) for my art. I've made an [askblog](https://institute-of-the-root.tumblr.com/) for my Hollow Knight x Tma au, so check that out if ya want :)


	17. Chapter 17

Melanie did not call Sasha in the morning, even though Sasha had given Melanie her number and told her to call her if anything happened. Sasha had spent a good thirty minutes in the morning staring at her phone, biting her lip, trying to decide whether or not to take the initiative and call Melanie herself. 

Instead of doing that, she texted the AAss group chat to meet her in the tunnels before work.

There were a handful of tunnel entrances that Sasha knew about. Exploring would probably reveal some more, but Sasha couldn’t quite bring herself to do that just yet. Not when she had no way of knowing whether or not Prentiss or something else was down here. She wanted to, eventually, but… not just yet.

“Are you okay? You aren’t hurt, are you?” 

Sasha looked up from her pacing as Tim descended down into the tunnels. The entrance they were at today was down what looked like a normal pothole but didn’t actually lead to the sewers. 

“No, but, there’s… I did something a little dumb yesterday? And before you yell at me, um, let’s at least wait until Martin’s here so you both can do it together?” Sasha said. Tim raised his eyebrows. 

“Yesterday? You didn’t try to look for Prentiss, did you?” He guessed and Sasha shook her head. 

“It wasn’t that dumb. Or, well, at least it wasn’t the same kind of dumb.” Sasha reasoned and Tim’s eyebrows raised impossibly higher on his face. He didn’t say anything else, but Sasha had a feeling he was trying to remember anything she did or might have done yesterday. She didn’t Know it, or at least she didn’t think she did. She hadn’t realized how many things she just suddenly Knew until she and the rest of the AAss had started spending so much time in the tunnels. 

“Is it Prentiss?! Everybody okay?!”

Martin half-tumbled half-climbed down into the tunnels, the prototype fire extinguisher bag he’d been working on slung over his shoulder and a corkscrew in hand, absolutely ready to throw down. 

“Yeah, we’re okay, but wine bottles everywhere are quaking in fear.” Tim assured him and Martin blinked, clearly not picking up on what Tim had said at first before slowly becoming red and spluttering.

“W-well, when there’s worms, it’s um, they- a knife would be-” Martin snapped his mouth shut, took in a deep breath, and started over, “If there _were_ worms, it seems like it would be a lot less messy to go straight in with a corkscrew than to try and cut it out with a knife.” 

“Huh, that’s… kind of brilliant.” Tim admitted. 

“It’s very brilliant.” Sasha agreed. Martin got a bit more red but smiled, tucking the corkscrew into his pocket. 

“So, then, is everything okay? Is it about Jon?” Martin asked. Ah, yes, Sasha was too far in now, wasn’t she? She couldn’t just say something like ‘I just wanted to test your reaction times to emergency texts’ or something. Or could she…? No, that, that wasn’t a good idea. It was best to just say it.

“You remember one of Jon’s points was that he can’t take live statements, right?” Sasha asked, and both of them nodded. “Well, I’m fairly certain it’s not so much that he can’t and more that he shouldn’t.”

“... you took the statement yesterday.” Tim said slowly, something not-quite dawning on his face. Sasha nodded as confidently as she could. She shouldn’t feel so bad about this. Really, it was sort of Jon’s fault for not explaining why he shouldn’t take live statements.

“Oh.” Martin said. Like Tim, he clearly wasn’t entirely certain what that meant other than ‘bad news’ and ‘probably not something great’. “Because, you’re also a bit like Jon, right?”

“Yes, there’s, well, do you remember Naomi?” Sasha asked, doing her best to maintain eye contact and again reminding herself that she hadn’t really done anything _wrong,_ per se, she had just needed to confirm her theory. 

“You hung out with her a few days ago, right?” Tim recalled and Sasha nodded. They’d both gone out for drinks and Sasha caught Naomi up on what had been going on at the Archives. Naomi had told Sasha that she was currently rooming with a couple other people, and that keeping in touch with Sasha did seem to help with the loneliness. 

“After I took her statement, I started having nightmares about what happened to her. And Naomi had the same nightmares, including me being there, watching her struggle to get away from the grave.” Sasha explained, watching their reactions. Both seemed at first unsure how to react. Martin looked a little confused, while Tim was more contemplative.

“... you took Melanie’s statement anyway.” Tim said slowly. Sasha swallowed and nodded.

“I mean, I had to know if it was something that happened every time or not." Sasha justified.

“You should have told one of us that it gives you both nightmares! Tim or I could have taken Melanie’s statement.” Martin said.

“I didn’t have a chance to. Jon barely gave us any warning that somebody was coming down.” Sasha reminded them. Tim still looked like he was thinking. “Tim?”

“You’re not going to take another statement.” Tim said.

“No, of course not.” Sasha agreed. Tim gave her a look, one of the hard-eyed ones she rememberd from the First Time that meant that Tim had made a Decision and nothing was going to change his mind about it. It was the same look he’d gotten right before never showing up on time again and never even pretending to adhere to any kind of dress code. This did include the one memorable time he’d come in wearing a bathrobe and presumably nothing else under it. 

“Well, now we know, so Tim and I can offer to take statements. Unless, well… you don’t think it would make us, uh,” 

“Monsters?” Sasha suggested and both Tim and Martin flinched a bit. It was okay, Sasha knew what she was becoming. And like Artifact Storage always says, the more you know the better prepared you can be. In fact, Sasha was fairly sure that some of the names of various entities she had heard before from Holly and some other veteran artifact members. It made her wonder just how much they knew, how much she herself would have learned if she had stayed longer. She still didn’t regret requesting the transfer. “No, I don’t think so. For both Jon and I, it started with recording statements, and even then it took a while. I’m pretty sure it’s not an over night thing.”

“Right, right.” Martin nodded. “Well, then, if that’s settled, we should be getting to the archives, right? We don’t want to be late for work. Jon might get worried, or suspiciouis and try to, uh, Look for us.” 

“Yes, I just, I wanted to make sure you knew what was going on with me.” Sasha said.

“We appreciate it.” Tim put a hand on her shoulder and smiled at her shoulder.

Still, Sasha couldn’t help but to feel a little guilty, a little sinking in her stomach as she saw the begining of those creases in Tim’s face that she hadn’t missed, the nervous but brave and and resoluteness on Martin’s. 

She couldn’t help the vague inkling she might just be treading a different path to the same destination.

oOo

Jon had spent the night at Georgie’s playing with the Admiral. Sneaks was a good cat and all, very enjoyable company, but he just wasn’t the Admiral. While he was over, Georgie had presented him with her newest project: a series of different nightshirts for him to wear at night that would amuse her while she stood in that old science building with the cadaver. She also gave him some blank ones and a washable marker so he could come up with his own. He acted annoyed about it, but only to avoid admitting he was amused and even a little excited for the little game they could play during the night, like the world’s least-effect text messages. 

He arrived at work a little earlier than usual, none of his assistants there just yet. He took the time to sort through his personal collection of statements. He needed to look into the contracts that bound employees to the Institute, but he also wanted to keep his assistants, uh, ‘busy’. They didn’t know they were bound here yet, and Jon had to admit that he was, selfishly, putting that discussion off for a little longer. The others - Tim in particular - hadn’t reacted too well to the news before, although hopefully Sasha would be able to help with that. 

Jon didn’t want to give them just busy work, however. Himself being from the future wasn’t incredibly relevant, and he feared that knowledge would cause them to view him even more as an outsider, a monster, but he also wanted to trust them and their own ability to figure things out. It was a careful line to walk, between what he conceivably Knew from being an avatar of the Eye and what was more out of bounds. 

He shuffled through the statements until he found one that made him pause. This was one of the older ones, and one Jon had kept in the office purely because it was one of his personal favorites. Albracht von Closen and the mysterious mausoleum. Jon was still unsure exactly what that was. His first instinct was that it was a small version of a temple for the Eye, but it wasn’t entirely clear. Despite being an avatar of the Eye, it was perhaps one of the entities he knew least about as far as other groups went. The eye wasn’t typically known for its heavy-handed nature, after all, and very few people considered ‘feeling watched’ as a statement worthy thing. 

That wasn’t the point, of course. The point was statements that mentioned both Jonah and the Eye. The assistants were probably already aware or not far away from making the assumption that the Institute, a place so fitted for creating an avatar of the Eye, would have been created by somebody already affiliated with it. But, perhaps, if he played his cards right… could he get them to realize that Jonah was Elias? Maybe it was a bit of a long shot, but he had time. The only thing they had to worry about for the time being was Jonah deciding Jon wasn’t interesting anymore - unlikely for a servant of the Beholding - and perhaps the Unknowing, but that was a ways off yet.

As if summoned by the mere thought of him (Jon doubted it but it wasn’t entirely impossible) Jon stiffened and Saw Jonah - Elias, to be safe he should think of him as Elias - start to descend down into the Archives, into Jon’s Domain. His fingers curled into fists and he Stared down at Elias, Watching him. Not as intently and powerfully as he had Prentiss, but enough that he hoped to at least unnerve the avatar. 

Elias didn’t seemed fazed in the slightest. 

It was a good thing that the others hadn’t arrived just yet. Jon knew that it probably took Elias’ concious effort to dig through someone’s head, but he could still do it, and Jon wasn’t sure if even in his own Domain there was much he could do to protect his friends. In the future, he’d have to make sure that he was the only one who met with Elias. Even with the information the assistants had on Jon being not entirely true, it was far more that he wanted Elias to know. 

Jon waited for Elias in his office, sorting his statements into the pile he’d be keeping for himself and what he’d be giving out to his assistants when they arrived. 

“Good morning, Jon.” Elias said as he opened Jon’s door without bothering to knock. It hadn’t been completely closed anyway, and they both knew that Jon had already been aware of Elias’ pressence.

“It was, wasn’t it?” Jon sighed longingly, “I suppose there’s hope for tomorrow. Is there a reason you’ve come down here?”

“I _am_ Head of the Institute, Jon,” Elias reminded him, “These are my Archives.” 

Jon bit down the urge to spit that no, these were not Elias’ Archives, not Jonah’s Archives. These were Jon’s, far more than they had ever belonged to Elias, or Gertrude, or Angus, or any other Archivist that had come before him. Instead, Jon remained composed, staring and Staring at Elias, waiting for the man to explain why he had decided to risk shattering the silent agreement they had come to about the archives.

Elias pulled the statement giver chair up to Jon’s desk, sitting with his legs crossed and his hands resting primly on his knee. He was within punching distance, which was rather bold of the man.

“I have been thinking about the little situation we have here.” Elias said. 

“Situation?” Jon asked

“Yes, between us. I’m sure you weren’t originally aware of my circumstances, just as I haven’t been aware of your Becoming. You certainly weren’t a servant of the Eye the last time I had checked up on you, and yet here you are now. You’re certainly no Stranger, and I have spent a while consulting other temples and servants of the Eye to see if they had known of you before. So it would seem you are, indeed, new. It hasn’t explained your strenghth, of course, and asking the Eye itself has brought less than satisfactory results, but it will always provide me with what it believes I need.” 

God, Jon had forgotten how Elias’ loved the sound of his own voice. There were some interesting things to be gleaned from the information. So there _were_ other active temples out there, other active groups that Elias at the very least knew of and had contact with. The Eye not just telling Elias out-right what was up with Jon was a relief, and Jon wondered if Elias, even after all these years, still struggled with the same tug-of-war with the Eye of trying to get what he wanted to know and what the Eye decided would be ‘fun’ to share with Jon. 

“If you came down here expecting me to answer your questions myself, you’re sorely mistaken.” Jon stated, bearing his Gaze down on Elias just a bit harder and firmer, wanting to watch the man squirm. Still, it had no effect on Elias.

“Of course not. I’m well aware of how servants of the Eye rather shy away from sharing the information they hoard. Don’t worry, Jon, I have no intentions of firing you from your current position, I’m perfectly open to allowing you to feed on my collection.” Elias said and Jon nearly rolled his eyes at that. Yeah, like Elias had the choice to fire Jon. “But this is all rather unnessary, Jon.”

“Unnessary?” Jon repeated. He didn’t know exactly where this was going, but he did know that he didn’t like it. 

“We are both servants of the Eye, existing in the same temple as each other. Must we keep up with this cold war? Wouldn’t we be better suited to join our efforts to serve the Eye? As a young servant, I don’t expect you to understand, but you have Become during a very important time. There are plans already in motion for something great, and I would love to have you be a part of them.” Elias offered, and smiled that snakeoil smile. 

“I’m not at all sorry to disappoint, but I have my own goals and plans that I can assure you do not align with yours.” Jon couldn’t stop the venom that crept into his voice. To his frustration, Elias just nodded, still smiling, and stood up.

“You’re still young. You know where I am, when you change your mind. I’ll be waiting, and I have work to do.” Elias said it with such surety, so positive of the outcome, that Jon felt his blood boiling. 

He drew on his connection with the Eye, sharpening the intensity of his Stare, and this time Elias did at least flinch as the pressure on him increased, trying to draw a statement from him.

“Get out of my Archives.” Jon ordered. 

“I’ll be seeing you, Jon.” Elias said, putting out a hand like he expected Jon to shake it and be cordgial. Jon was far more likely to end up spitting in it but held himself back. Maybe Elias couldn’t fire him, but Jon should still try to keep the man from viewing him as an enemy. Jon knew that Elias wasn’t above killing an Archivist if he thought it necessary.

Jon didn’t sit back down until Elias was out of the archives, and when he did he fell almost bonelessly into his chair, raking a hand down his face. Even just that little display of power had made the hunger in his gut grow deeper, stronger. He needed to be more sparing of his powers when he could. He had already promised himself not to take more from Holly than was absolutely necessary, but he was aware that eventually he’d need more. Even now, he had plans to try and convince some of the other Artifact Assistants to give him some statements. 

It was worrying that Elias still seemed so sure about his plan, that it was still progressing. He clearly didn’t think of Jon as his Archivist, but recognized Jon as another kind of player in his terrible game entirely. Which left the unsettling question of what Elias was up to. Perhaps he had convinced one of the other temples to start preparing their own Archvists? Jon would need to look into that. 

Jon sighed and let his head rest on his desk. There was so much he needed to do, and while he _thought_ the Eye’s ritual wouldn’t be possible until after the Stranger’s, he wasn’t positive. He didn’t like working with a time limit, much less one that he didn’t know when it stopped. 

Well, he had no choice but to forge onwards. 

oOo

“Tim, check out this statement.” 

Sasha waved Tim over. The three assistants were rooting through one of the archive rooms, looking for statements on the Stranger that might be helpful, the two statements she’d had before not giving nearly enough information. Jon was currently recording a statement, which meant it was the perfect time to work on their personal projects. Still, Sasha found herself oddly distracted.

“Is it one on the Circus?” Tim asked ever-so-casually. 

“No, it’s a Corruption one about some moths. But there’s just, I don’t know, something about it that seems important to me.” Sasha wasn’t sure how to convey the weight the statement seemed to carry. There was something here that Sasha needed to Know, she was sure of it. When she’d found it, there had been a kind of relief, like she’d been searching for it without even realizing it. 

“It isn’t another Prentiss one, is it?” Martin asked, gravitating over to them. He had a few statements in his arms, although Sasha doubted they’d be useful. Not because Martin found them, but rather because it seemed like Jon had already scoured through and picked out all the useful ones. Sasha didn’t want to admit to Jon that they were looking into these kinds of statements, but, well, it was starting to get to the point it might be unavoidable to have to reveal something. 

“No, it looks like it’s about some guy who just had a run in with some moths and, uh, mold or something. He got out alright, I guess?” Tim skimmed through the statement. “Yeah, it sounds like three people showed up and managed to scare off the moths with some fire.”

“Was it Gerry?” Sasha tried to get another look at the statement, but skipping to the end of them was a bit tricky these days. She just liked reading them in their entirety first. 

“You mean Gerard Keay, resistant badass who God decided he needed to nerf with some good old cancer to the brain? I’m not sure. I mean, one of the guys is described as being tall with long black hair, but there’s nothing about his eye tattoos, and I thought he usually worked alone.” Tim said. 

“What about the others?” Martin asked curiously, and the three of them all started to slowly shift to sitting on the ground while Tim continued to pick through the statement for what they wanted to hear. 

“Uh, one was average height, short brown hair, and, oh, uh, he doesn’t make it out, I guess. Sounds like he got caught up in the orange mold or something so that the statement giver could make a run for it.” Tim frowned at the statement. “Uh, the third person was short, blonde and curly hair and, good news, they did survive. 

“Hm.” Sasha hummed curiously, taking the statement back from Tim. “Why don’t you guys keep looking for Stranger statements. There’s something about this one… I think I’m going to read it.”

“Lunch time already?” Tim joked and Sasha rolled her eyes. 

“You know what they say, trauma is a part of a balanced breakfast.” Sasha said and was rewarded with a chuckle from Tim. “I’ll be back in a bit. It looks like it’s a pretty short one.” 

Still, just in case Jon finished his own statement reading early, Sasha grabbed a tape recorder and headed down to the tunnels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, the time i've warned about it upon us, I'm afraid; college is back in session, and I now have other things i have to do besides writing fanfiction. That being said, i do hope to continue this fic. This arc in particular with Holly and co is going to be fun I think and explore some things that are going to be pretty important. 
> 
> Quick question: would you guys be interested in reading a series of one-shots that are the statements that Holly has given Jon so far? 
> 
> Also going to take the time to promote my little one-shot I did on a Stranger!Jon, 'The Stranger, The Better', that's posted here :) 
> 
> I made a little playlist for the fic :D [here ya go](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0dIwmTb53X5c5KaNyS1Gmn?si=Dc8yaHciSdiuh1pnBstlEg)
> 
> If you want, you can find me on my tumblr [@browniefox](https://browniefox.tumblr.com/) for my personal blog and [@artful-browniebites](http://artful-browniebites.tumblr.com/) for my art. I've made an [askblog](https://institute-of-the-root.tumblr.com/) for my Hollow Knight x Tma au, so check that out if ya want :)


	18. Chapter 18

_ Statement of Kyle Paulson regarding a flock of moths.  _

_ Statement given the 9th of August, 2000. _

_ I used to have a fondness for moths. The ‘ugly’ stepsister to the butterfly, just as beautiful and yet rejected for favoring the night. Even now, I want to say that I like them, and logically I know that not all moths are connected to what happened to me that night, but it saddens me that I’ll never be able to look at them the same way again.  _

_ I have always had a hard time making friends, so I found comfort in bugs, and I have to admit: when I first saw those moths that night, I thought it was like my old friends had come to help me. The past few months haven’t been easy or kind. I dropped out of college, and while I’m able to keep my studio apartment, I almost think it would’ve been better to have roommates. I don’t leave unless I absolutely have, and I think I’ve been, well, falling into depression or something.  _

_ I don’t know. Life’s hard, and harder when you go through it on your own. Worse when you have a hard time finding people to help you. _

_ The moths were outside my apartment when I got home from work.  _

_ I was still in my uniform, my feet still hurt from the shift I’d just worked. Usually, nothing would have stopped me from going to my apartment. I remember I was so tired, it had been a rough night. All I wanted to do was sink into my blankets and sleep for hours and hours. _

_ But the moths were out there, gathered on the door and on the floor and fluttering around my head. More than I had seen in years, especially since my move to the city. I couldn’t pass up a chance like that.  _

_ When I got too close, they started to fly away, and I chased after them. One actually landed on me, I think, and stayed there as I followed the moths as they flew through the city. They never seemed to get distracted by the streetlights, or any of the lit windows of people staying up far too late. They just flew on and I walked after them. _

_ It was… it was like a moment right out of my childhood.  _

_ It felt like coming home.  _

_ Even when I got to the old house, I wasn’t scared yet. I was just… happy, actually. I think I was the happiest I had been in weeks, or months, or… a while. The happiest I had been in a while. I don’t know why I didn’t question it. Actually, no, I know why I didn’t want to think about how odd it was that the months weren’t flying aimlessly, didn’t fly outside of my line of view. I wanted to believe that maybe this was a little magic in my life, a little piece of joy I was allowed to have. _

_ Ha ha, the joke really was on me.  _

_ The first thing I noticed was the smell. My mom used to have a sourdough starter in our house, and it always got this really sharp smell when it was time to feed it again. It smelled like that, like old apples and old bananas and things that are just old and rotting away.  _

_ The door to the house was ajar, and all of the moths flew inside. This was when I finally hesitated. Even if the house was abandoned, going in felt like trespassing. I don’t do that kind of stuff, and there was that terrible smell. If something was dead in that building, I didn’t want to be the one to find it.  _

_ The moth that had landed on my head flew forward,finally, the last one to slip through the door, and I followed after it.  _

_ The smell only got worse the farther in I got, and my lone and last moth was the only one I could still see. I don’t know why I kept going after it. I think maybe some part of me thought I could catch the moth and take it out with me, to safety? It was hard to think over the sound. Like a thousand fluttering wings, pure white noise, and yet, I could’ve sworn there was a kind of music in its midst, something sweet and soothing.  _

_ That was probably just my imagination.  _

_ Against all of my better judgement, I went into the basement, where the smell was the worst, and when I reached the bottom of the stairs, I saw all of it.  _

_ Thousands of moths covered the walls down there, like wallpaper. Their wings twitched, but otherwise they were completely still, completely at ease.  _

_ I wasn’t alone with the moths. There were people there, most standing behind the boxes and old couches of whoever had once lived here. Other were closer, and I could hear the door to the basement shut behind me, undoubtedly by yet another of those people. No, those corpses. There was no way any of them were well and truly alive. _

_ There was luminous orange mold on them. It leaked from their eyes, their ears, their noses, their mouths. It was thick, viscous, and stained their clothes and collected on their limbs in clumps. And in the center of the basement was a huge mass of it, the only light down there. There was something odd about the shape that I didn’t realize at the time, but looking back now I know that it was shaped like bodies, bodies piled on top of eachother to feed that orange mold. Thin stalks with bulbous heads covered it, making it almost look hairy, and the fear that had been creeping up now hit me with full force.  _

_ I started to step backwards, away from it. I kept looking, because I still didn’t know what I was looking at, I was still trying to comprehend what was going on above the simple fact I knew that this was bad and terrible. I bumped into something and before I could try and see what it was two people grabbed my arms. Their faces were stretched into smiles, that sickly orange light illuminating their emanciated features.  _

_ The fluttering of the moth wings got louder, just barely heard over the frantic beating of my heart. I wanted to run, to scratch at them and break out of their hold, but I was frozen as the fear overtook every fiber of my being. One of the corpses said something, but I couldn’t really hear them, just the white noise and the song, a promise I couldn’t make out.  _

_ They dragged me closer to the big orange mold, and I had enough sense to try and hold my ground, but they were much stronger than they looked, and my feet slid uselessly on the floor.  _

_ There was another sound, pounding feet down the creaky stairwell I had descended. The corpses tried to drag me faster, the moths were moving, the song was almost clear enough to make out. _

_ And then one of the pairs of hands was gone.  _

_ There were three new people in the basement, three people not glowing orange. The first one I noticed was tall, with long black hair pulled away from their face and holding a long black sword. They swung it, and one of the people who had been holding me had their head quickly removed from the body. Orange bled out of them mixed with blood, and they were missing part of their arms as well. I was so focused on that first person I didn’t realize my other arm was freed until a new hand had grabbed onto it.  _

_ The second person had short brown hair and was holding a sword of their own, more average sized sword than their tall and dark haired companion. They were maybe my height and were trying to pull me back towards the stairs. I did my best to follow them, but all of my limbs felt far off, or like I was trying to move them through jelly.  _

_ The third person was small, blonde, and had been standing behind me. They, too, had a sword, and I remember wondering how I had missed the memo and started to laugh at that thought. The blonde looked surprised, and the brunette waved them off. _

_ “It’s shock,” They said, “Just get them out of here.”  _

_ The people who had been standing in the shadows were moving forward now, and the moths had taken flight, flying in a hurricane around us.  _

_ They still looked beautiful. _

_ The blonde grabbed the front of my shirt and started pulling me to the stairs. I stumbled after them as the brunette and black-haired companions swung their swords. While the black-haired sliced the corpses with single-swings of their sword, the brunette struggled more, losing ground, the infected people they were holding off getting closer and closer. It was like a zombie apocalypse localized in that basement.  _

_ When we reached the stairs, the brunette went up first, followed by the blonde, then me and the black-haired one. I think my brain started working again at that point, because I was able to climb the stairs quickly. The brunette asked the tall one how they were holding up, and all they did was grunt in response. The bodies of corpses that had tried to follow us up had started to accrue at the bottom of the stairs and were enough to slow the flow of the attack, at least a bit.  _

_ When we got to the top of the stairwell, starting to make our way to the front door, I realized that the smell hadn’t lessened at all. It was a bit too late, I guess.  _

_ There was another infected corpse up there, an old woman, who tried to grab me. The brunette jumped in front of me, brandishing their sword, and was grabbed instead. The old woman laughed, and it wasn’t a cackle like I thought it should’ve been, but something light and almost joyful sounding as she dragged the brunette away from us, getting out of reach of the black sword just in time to avoid being cut by it.  _

_ “A fair trade.” She said, and the blonde almost ran after her as she started to go deeper into the house, carrying the brunette with her as they kicked their feet and tried to break free of her grasp. The black haired one stopped the blonde, insisting that we had to get out of there. Corpses were starting to come out of the basement door. _

_ We ran.  _

_ I don’t know how long we ran for, or how far, but when we stopped I collapsed on the ground. The blonde leaned against a building for support. The tall one stood easily, but even their chest heaved with deep breaths.  _

_ It was only then I got a good look at them, and I had to do a double take.  _

_ The tall black-haired one couldn’t have been older than me. In the heat of the fight and the zombies and my own confusion of what was going on, I thought them to be some old sword fighter, but they were young. Maybe even younger than me. The blonde was even more shocking, the small size I had taken to simply be short stature upon further attention proving to be coming hand-in-hand with their young age. God, there was no way they were even a teenager yet, still soft-looking, a child. And the brunette… _

_ I got to my feet and looked back the way we’d come. They were still there, a teenager themself, in that house with the moths and the orange mold. _

_ “Rest.” The black-haired one ordered. _

_ I tried to argue that there was a kid - their friend - still there, that we had to go back, we had to save them. God, I wanted nothing less than to go back there, but knowing that there was a kid still there, in my place, grabbed instead of me… it’s still something I’m trying to figure out how to live with. _

_ They refused to go back. They said my safety was worth more than anything. I screamed, and then I couldn’t stop screaming, and I was crying, and I didn’t know what to do anymore, what anything meant.  _

_ The blonde came over and hugged me, and then the black-haired one joined in.  _

_ Hours, or maybe minutes later, they walked me back to my apartment. The black-haired one advised I move apartments soon, and get some roommates or a pet or anything to keep me from being alone, and they gave me a card with a phone number on it. They said that if I thought I saw trouble like that again, to give it a call.  _

_ I did end up moving. I have four roommates now, and they’re a bit of a pain to put up with, but they’re better than whatever had lured me to that house. I still have the card. I haven’t called it yet. _

_ I hope I won’t need to. _

oOo

“Of course!” Sasha said to herself, eyes lighting up.

“Of course what?” Tim asked.

They were at Tim’s apartment currently. Sasha was sprawled out on the couch, leafing through the statements they’d collected so far and finding herself time and again drawn back to the Corruption one. Tim was making dinner, which was to say he was watching a pot of water boil, two cups of ramen waiting to be filled with the hot water. Tim’s own stack of statements, all revolving around people who had felt the pressense of the Eye, was sitting on the coffee table. 

Sasha was supposed to be looking into the Unknowing while Tim looked into whether or not there was anything he and Martin could do to shield themselves from Elias’ and Jon’s watching when outside of the tunnels. Martin, in his own apartment, had his own homework of trying to figure out whether or not there  _ was  _ a precedent for time travel. So far, none of them had been having much luck.

Even now, as Sasha flicked through the Corruption statement for what felt like the hundreth time, now with new eyes, she wouldn’t exactly call the conclusion she was coming to ‘lucky’. 

“What is it?” Tim asked again when Sasha didn’t reply.

“We’re trying to stop the wrong one.” Sasha’s voice was a tad quiet, the realization having just dawned on her and saying it outloud making it suddenly real. Maybe a little too real. 

“What? But I thought you said that Gertrude got most of them. If there was one between the ones she stopped and the Unknowing, I think we would’ve noticed.” Tim walked over to the couch, leaning over the back to look at the statement in her hands. 

“The worms, Tim! We were so much faster with the worms!” Sasha insisted. She flipped through to when Kyle had talked about the basement, about the mass of people. It was far more premeditate than most attacks from the Corruption, that was the first thing that stood out about it. The Corruption, the Crawling Rot, was usually something that came upon you with a slowness, like a persistent hunter, like the End with its calm assuredy that it would win, given time. The moths and the mold were structured, and so had been the original attack on the Archives Last Time.

“Yeah, you said that last time it took you months to deal with, right? And we got the jump on her - accidently, maybe, but we still did - so we don’t have to worry about Prentiss.” Tim said, repeating Sasha’s own words back to her. She shook her head.

“I was wrong, it’s not over yet. Maybe for Prentiss, but not for the Corruption as a whole. Tim, last time, during the attack, you said you found a room filled with worms, and that they’d made a circle or portal or something. I think, no, I Know that that was the Corruption’s ritual attempt! Last time, you stopped it, but this time there was nothing to stop because Prentiss didn’t get that far.” Sasha explained. 

“Oh.  _ oh. _ ” Tim said, coming to the same conclusion as Sasha. “The Corruption is still going to attempt a ritual.” 

“Exactly.” Sasha snapped her fingers. She ran a hand down the statement. “And I have a feeling I know what part of it is going to try.” 

“The moths and the mold.” 

“I’ll call Martin.” Sasha grabbed her phone - and froze as she felt Eyes on her. She liked to think she could tell the difference between Elias and Jon. This felt like Jon. Not nearly as cold, not trying to disect her, not looking at her like a specimen in a jar. That didn’t mean the feeling was any better. In the archives, there was something familiar and almost nice about the feeling. Sasha wondered if it was because it was meant to be there, and she was servant of the Eye. Outside of it, however, Jon’s Eyes were too close, too constant, like a spider on a wall. Persistent and waiting for you to do something, to mess up, to falter. 

Sasha didn’t need to hear the click of the tape recorder to know that it had turned on. 

Logically, she knew that Jon could probably help them. He was more monster than she was, and the devil you knew and all that, and he seemed to really want to keep them safe, and Sasha believed him as far as that went. But… she couldn’t bring herself to well and truly trust him. Not when he kept his own secrets, not when she didn’t know his own goals yet. Was he planning to doom the world and just keep them around, like a reminder of humanity? Was he working with Elias? Was he working against Elias, and if so to what ends?

“Ah.” Tim said, clearly noticing her reaction and picking up on the fact that they were beign watched. His eyes darted over to the tape recorder, whirring away. Hearing every word they’d say. 

Sasha blew a breath out slowly. And as she did, she ‘felt’ around her. When had she started to fill up Tim’s apartment with Eyes, with her own Watching? It was little and weak compared to Jon’s, but perhaps, if she could just, take a hold of the image…

Sasha Twisted the apartment, and the weight of Jon’s eyes lifted as they stayed on the lie of Sasha and Tim talking about their assigned cases. 

She opened her eyes, not having realized she had closed them, and noticed Tim wtching her curiously. 

“You did something.” It wasn’t a question.

“Could you feel it?” She asked, and Tim shrugged.

“A bit, maybe, but there was this weird ripple that came out from you, so I more saw than felt it.” Tim told her. Sasha nodded. Keeping the Lie in place was already getting tiring. Hopefully Jon would lose interest soon. She looked back at the tape. There was still that to worry about, and she really did believe Jon when he’d said he didn’t listen to them. Still, just to be sure…

Sasha picked up the tape recorder, popped the cassette out, and pulled the tape out, purposefully wrinkling it as she did.

“Oh hell yeah! Why haven’t we thought about doing that before?” Tim was immediately on board. 

“There, Jon shouldn’t see or hear us.” Sasha gave another, proud, nod at her work. 

“What did you do?” 

“Jon’s currently watching a fake image of us.” 

“How’d you do that?” 

“Just another one of my powers?” Sasha shrugged. Was there really a point to trying to figure them out? She was the monster of a crazy eldrict god, and that came with weird powers. Sure they were kind of thematic, but who really knew how they were supposed to work. “I got good at covering up my thoughts Before, when Elias was keeping a closer eye on us. I guess I’ve gotten better at it.”

“Wish I could do that.” Tim sighed jealously. 

“Just what we need, another trauma vampire.” 

“Hey, we could all be trauma vampires  _ together _ !” 

“That does sound great.” Sasha said, making sure her voice was dripping with sarcasm. “Now then, I’m going to call Martin. You see if we can find anything on Kyle, what happened to him, if he ever ran into those monster hunters again.”

Tim opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by the sound of sizzling and steaming water. They both looked back to the stove, where the water was now boiing out of the pot. Tim vaulted over the kitchen bar and landed right in front of the stove, blowing on the bubbles. 

Sasha laughed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Half-statement fic this time! A little bit of body horror, sorry :P Anyway, now we have a new goal to be getting to.
> 
> I made a little playlist for the fic :D [here ya go](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0dIwmTb53X5c5KaNyS1Gmn?si=Dc8yaHciSdiuh1pnBstlEg)
> 
> If you want, you can find me on my tumblr [@browniefox](https://browniefox.tumblr.com/) for my personal blog and [@artful-browniebites](http://artful-browniebites.tumblr.com/) for my art. I've made an [askblog](https://institute-of-the-root.tumblr.com/) for my Hollow Knight x Tma au, so check that out if ya want :)


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh, just a warning that I 100% did not proof read this, so, uh, I hope theres not too many spelling errors

As it turned out, Kyle Paulson was indeed still alive. That wasn’t always the fact when it came to past statement givers, especially one from quite some time ago. Sasha ended up having to work some of her computer magic to find him; it was never an easy task, especially considering even just finding them on Facebook was nigh impossible when you didn’t know what they looked like. 

They could do the whole rigamarole of flirting their way into the guy’s house or something, or pretending to be checking on the plumbing, but Sasha decided to go try her luck just asking ‘Hey, this is the Magnus Institute wondering if you’d be willing to provide follow up on that statement you gave sixteen years ago?’

And the answer was yes. 

So a couple days later, Sasha and Tim travelled a few hours out of London under the pretenses of statement follow ups - technically not a lie, and they were going to hit some other follow ups on the way - to visit Kyle Paulson. Martin’s job while they were gone was to try and keep Jon’s attention. Jon hadn’t let on that he’d been able to see through Sasha’s Twisting yet, and she was going to go on the assumption that it did work, but she didn’t know if she’d be able to pull it off in a place she wasn’t so familiar with. 

The house Kyle lived in was more like a cozy cottage. It had a nice little yard, surrounded by a fence. The yard was mostly overtaken by weeds and trees and bushes, with a clear trail leading up to the front door and a few stray lawn ornaments hidden in the midsts. Despite the overgrown nature, it didn’t look unkept, just natural. Tim parked the car in front of the gate and as they climbed out, the front door of the cottage opened and a man stepped out.

Sasha recognized him from the pictures she’d found of him during her digging. His hair was cut short and there was a scar on the side of his face. He was wearing a very cozy looking sweater that was purposefully a few sizes too big coupled with a simple pair of jeans. He hadn’t bothered with shoes, walking the stone path to the gate with an easy smile, waving at them.

“Hello there! You wouldn’t happen to be the researchers from the Magnus Institute, would you?” Kyle asked as he made his way over to them.

“Archival Assistants, actually, but yes we’re with the Magnus Institute. Thank you again for agreeing on a follow up, especially on such short notice.” Tim corrected and gave the man one of his show-winning smiles. 

“Oh, don’t worry about it. My days have been rather slow recently, I have plenty of time.” Kyle assured them. He opened the gate, but instead of inviting them into the house, he first walked over to the mailbox and pulled out a small collection of letters, flipping through them with a small smile on his face. Only then did he walk back to the house with a gesture for Tim and Sasha to follow him.

Just like the outside, the inside of the cottage had a nice and cozy feel to it. Everything in it looked old and antique-like, but was all clearly well maintained. The floor was hardwood, but with plenty of rugs spread out. Sasha and Tim both toed off their shoes right by the doorway, although Kyle was quick to reassure them that, if they were more comfortable in their shoes, they were welcome to keep them on. 

“You have a nice house.” Sasha said and Kyle chuckled.

“Oh, it’s not mine. I work as a kind of live-in housekeeper-caretaker to the owner, although between you and me, I think he just likes the company.” Kyle said the last part just a little quieter, like he was confiding in them, and then abruptly turned around, holding the mail high in the air. “Hey, Eldan, mail’s here!” 

“Good, good.” The voice of a clearly much older man came from further in the house. “Anything of note?”

“You’ve got a letter from Tiberius.” There was something teasing in Kyle’s voice.

“Finally! I was almost starting to get worried.” 

Kyle directed for Sasha and Tim to get comfortable in the living room while he carried the mail off to Eldan.

“Alright, you remember the plan, right?” Tim asked as they sat down on the couch, which was just a little bit too old in the fact that the cushions sank down too much when you sat on them.

“You have the list of questions?” Sasha asked right back. Of course she remembered the plan, it wasn’t as if it was complex or anything. The plan was essentially ‘have Tim ask all the questions to avoid Sasha accidentally taking a statement’. Sasha was ninety-percent sure that that wasn’t how taking a statement worked, that she wouldn’t just do it accidentally, but she supposed she did understand that they needed to be careful.

“Yup, right here.” Tim held up the notepad and pen. 

“Sorry about that, I promise I’m focused now.” Kyle said when he returned, taking a seat in an armchair. “Alright, your follow up, you wanted to ask about the moths I encountered, right? I mean, that’s the only statement I gave, so,” Kyle shrugged.

“Yes, exactly. Well, to start off, we wanted to know how clear your memory of that night still is.” Tim said, starting with the first question on the list. 

“It was a while ago. But I guess there’s some things you can’t just forget. I’m not sure if either of you have had run-ins with Fears, but they tend to leave a lasting mark.” Kyle replied and Sasha blinked in surprise.

“Wait, sorry, Fears?” She asked and Kyle nodded, head tilting a bit to the side.

“Uh, yeah, like the Fourteen Fears? Outlined by Robert Smirke? I thought you guys studied these kinds of things, sorry, I thought you’d, or well, I figured it was kind of universal-”

“No, no, we know about the Fears,” Tim cut off Kyle rambling, “But most people, even those who’ve had first-hand encounters, don’t typically know about the whole Fourteen or, well, much about anything. They’re usually fine to just let the bad memories fade.” 

“Yeah, well, I never did know what was good for me.” Kyle laughed, sounded far happier than that sentence deserved. “It’s been awhile since I gave that statement. Did I ever mention I called the number?” 

“You actually say in the end you hope you’ll never need to.” Sasha recalled. 

“Mm, must’ve given it before then then. I kept having these terrible nightmares about it - still do some nights - but I thought that going back and, I don’t know, exactly revenge on the poor kid who was killed would help somehow. Be a cathartic experience. Like I said, I’m not always the best judge on what’s good for me. But I couldn’t remember where the building was, so I was hoping the big sword guy would be able to tell me.” Kyle said nonchalantly. 

“Did you kill it?” Tim asked. 

“God no, do I look like I’m capable of killing anything?” Kyle gestured to his general self. Even with the baggy sweater, it was clear he wasn’t exactly muscular, “Especially back then when I was just a kid and would’ve been running in half-cocked and half-suicidal. The sword guy didn’t answer anyway. Sorry, this has nothing to do with your original question. Uh, yes, I do remember that night.” Kyle shook his head like it’d help him get back on track. Tim nodded and Sasha watched him jot that down and draw lines through the questions ‘where was the mold’ and ‘did you call the number’. 

“Did you ever have another run in with the moths?” Tim tapped the next question with his pen.

“No really. There were a few times, especially right afterwards, where I saw some moths and I thought maybe they were trying to lure me again, but I have no clue how much of that was just my imagination or not. I did have a run in or two with some of the other Fears, and I was ‘at risk’, but not as much as my friends.” 

“Your friends were also attacked by fears?” Sasha asked, leaning forward curiously. 

“I guess I should go back a bit. When I called the number, a girl answered. I still asked if she knew anything about the moths and the mold, but instead she just gave me Eldan’s number. And then Eldan set me up with some new roommates, and it turned out we’d all been a little attacked by Fears before and he set up neat traumatized people like that all the time. Years later, I asked him about it and he explained that the fears that attacked us were somewhat opposed to the fears of the others, and it was supposed to hopefully work as some kind of defense. I’m not entirely sure if it worked, or our respective Fears just stopped going after us after a while, but most of us are still alive.” Kyle said, and then blinked quickly, looking around. Sasha waited for him to say more, but he went oddly silent.

“Uh, well, that number you were given, do you still have it?” Tim asked.

“Y-yes, of course.” Kyle took his phone out and peeled back the phone’s case to reveal a couple of different papers. He pulled out a yellowed note that he passed over. The folded lines led to little tears from where they’d accidentally ripped. The number had been written in pencil, and after all the years it had become faded and smudged, only just barely still legible, “Not that I think it’ll do you much good? I don’t think she has the same number.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Tim said. Sasha was on the same page as Tim. It was easy to forget just how long ago statements were given. Kyle’s run-in with the Corruption was sixteen years ago, and while Sasha still believed it was a good first step to try and trace down what he’d encountered, even if it turned out not to be what was attempting the ritual or had been taken care of years ago, it didn’t stop the fact that the information they had was over a decade old. 

“Do you think Eldan would be willing to answer some questions?” Sasha asked. 

“Eldan’s always willing to share what he knows about the Fears with anybody who’ll listen, but ultimately it comes down to his judgement.” Kyle replied and then wrapped his arms around himself shaking his head. “Uh, that-that is to say, yes, I think so. I’ll go ask him.”

Kyle got up, eyes darting over Sasha and Tim, and then walked quickly farther into the house.

“Is he… okay?” Sasha’s brow furrowed.

“I mean, it can’t be nice, remember what totally changed the trajectory of your life, and in such a terrible way. I mean, the guy had a kid die for him. I bet he’s still trying to figure out what to make of that.” Tim replied. Sasha nodded. Yes, that made sense. She could sympathize herself. Even though she knew she’d survived through things like Prentiss and the Unknowing, it didn’t stop the fact that she had been through them, the scars they left - more psychological than physical these days - ever-present. 

The return of Kyle with Eldan was signaled by a soft tapping of a cane alternating between rug and wood. 

Eldan, as it turned out, was indeed an oldman. His hair had gone completely white, although it was still thick. He had a short but respectable beard and he was rather thin, though not as thin as Kyle. His cane was a gnarled piece of wood, the raw bark made smooth and shiny. All of that was more secondary, however, to the gun in his hand. 

“Hm, nice of the Fears to drop by, and so politely too. But I’m not ready to shuffle off this mortal coil just yet.” Eldan said, smiling despite the hard and cold look in his eyes. Tim stood up, putting himself between the gun and Sasha.

“What the hell?!’ Tim growled.

“That’s what I was thinking.” Kyle said, stepping through the doorway to reveal he was holding a sword. 

“Listen, I don’t know what’s going on, but we can talk about this, right?” Sasha asked, hands out placating.

“Of course we can talk about this.” Kyle replied and then his face screwed up in anger, “No, hey, you can’t just dismantle my threat like that! Stop doing that!”

“Asking… questions?” Sasha asked and then too late realized that she had just asked another question.

“Forcing answers out of.” Kyle corrected, and that answer seemed to have been against his will as well. 

“Oh. I-I’m sorry, I, there’s,” Sasha was momentarily thrown off kilter. She hadn’t even realized she’d done that. Damn it, she had asked questions during the follow-up, hadn’t she? So much for their plan, “I’m sorry, but please, we need to know more about the Corruption, and you’re our only lead.”

“What about the Corruption?” Eldan asked, voice completely calm and level. 

“We think it’s going to attempt a ritual.” Sasha said, not sure what they’d know about that. To her relief and surprise, Eldan gave a tired sigh and flicked the safety of the gun back on before tucking it into his pocket. 

“Thought those would’ve all been taken care of by now. Of all the centuries to be born in, it’s during the one where the rituals take turns screwing up the world.” Eldan shook his head. 

“Wh- Eldan, we still don’t know what they are!” Kyle insisted, raising his sword. 

“You said they compelled you? Well, they’re probably Eye-aligned. If we don’t have to get blood on my couch, it’s all the better.” Eldan sat down in the armchair and Kyle stood behind it, still refusing to put the sword down. “Alright, why don’t you two start from the top.”

“O-of course. We’re from the Magnus Institute, and we were doing a follow-up on the statement Kyle gave on the Corruption. I have a strong suspicion that it may be that particular vein of the entity that’s going to try the ritual.” Sasha summed up, yanking on Tim’s shirt until he sat back down. They could still salvage this, but not if Tim started throwing punches or something. Tim sat back down, but Sasha didn’t miss how he was on the very edge of the couch, ready to hop back up at a moment’s notice. 

“Oh, the Magnus Institute!” Eldan barked a laugh. “Why did you say so? Kyle, really, put the sword down. These are probably just old Gertie’s assistants. Cutting off a limb would stick, and I know you don’t want that on your conscious.” 

“Wait, has the Magnus Institute been Eye-aligned?” Kyle asked. 

“I’ve mentioned that before, haven’t I?” Eldan frowned up at Kyle and Kyle groaned throwing his head back.

“You’re insufferable.” Kyle muttered and then walked off, probably to put the sword back from wherever he got it from.

“You’ll have to excuse Kyle. He’s a little jumpy around Fear, but then again that’s the kind of instincts that’ll save him if he ever encounters something more dangerous than you lot. Now, what does the old bat want to know?” Eldan crossed his legs and resting his hands on his knee, the coldness completely gone and replaced by a warm grandfatherlyness.

“Not Gertrude. She’s dead.” Tim said stiffly, still not quite warmed back up yet from the death threats of moments ago. 

“Mm, a shame, she was a hell of a Keeper.” Eldan shook his head sadly. “Not that I knew her all that well personally, but she was a legend among any Keepers I knew.”

“Sorry, Keepers?” Sasha repeated and Eldan laughed again.

“A dumb name an old friend of mine and I came up with for those of us who try and fight off the Fears and such, try to save people. Short for ‘Keeper of Peace’. Corny, I know, but ‘hunter’ always implied to me a connection to the Hunt. I’ll admit, I had hoped she’d’ve been able to deal with all of the rituals before she died. She had quite the track record.” 

“That… does make a lot of sense.” Tim ceded to the point of Keepers and Hunters. 

“Of course it does! I used to be a Keeper myself, but I’m not as spry as I once was, and we can’t all be Robinson or Tiberius, still running off into danger. My bones couldn’t take it! These days, I try to help those with residual trauma from the Fears. Someone has to.” The last part was said just a little quieter, a little more thoughtfully, and it made Sasha wonder what Eldan had seen. 

“Well, do you know anything about the Corruption monster we’re after?” Tim got them back on track.

“Can’t say I’ve had a personal encounter, even with Kyle living here. I’m not sure what he told you before running to me, but the Corruption seems to have accepted that Kyle may be lost prey. Not that either of us will let our guards down, of course, but even for a patient fear like the Corruption, it’s been quite some time.” 

“So we’re back to square one.” Sasha sighed, burying her head in her hands. God, how had Gertrude done this? It felt impossible to find any Fear when you were actually looking for it. 

“Not necessarily. If it’s the Corruption, Vespa may know about it.” 

“Vespa?”

“Yes, she’s the woman whose number Kyle was given. She’s a Keeper herself, rather hands-on but also rather isolated, a dangerous combination for somebody who seems to have a vested interest in the Corruption in particular but not one that I suppose can be helped for many in this line of work. Here, I’ll give you her current number if you promise not to tell her where you got it from. She’s a little prickly about having her information handed out.” Eldan held out a hand and Tim gave him the pen and paper for the old man to scribble the phone number down on. 

“What I’m hearing is that we’re at the start of a wild goose chase for a solid lead.” Tim said, a little dry humor having worked its way back out of his angry and defensive exterior. 

“You must be new assistants. That’s just how trying to find Fears is. Them coming to you is much easier than trying to go to them. I heard of this one man, self-proclaimed vampire Hunter, who only found perhaps five of his prey throughout his entire life. And then he supposedly died of cancer - on two separate occasions! I wouldn’t be surprised if he was still out there.” Eldan shrugged. “I suppose I should warn you both before you try and make in-person contact - she’s a, well, let’s say a much better Keeper than myself or Kyle. If she thinks you’re a threat, she won’t hesitate in killing you like we did.” 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, uh, compel answers out of Kyle.” Sasha apologized. 

“That… well, I won’t sugar-coat it, that is worrying. You need to tread carefully if you’re on the route to Becoming. I’ve known several people who have gotten a little too familiar with various Fears. Some of them have Become, some have managed to hold it off for as long as possible, some have asked me to kill them before they lost their humanity. Gertrude was famous for being an Avatar of the Eye that never truly Became. Again, I didn’t know her well, but I can’t imagine it was an easy feat to achieve nor maintain. The Fears demand much of those that are ‘Chosen’. I… I honestly don’t think being aligned-with or an Avatar of a Fear is much better than being its prey.” Eldan’s eyes got a far off look to them as he spoke. It was clearly a subject he’d put a lot of thought into. Sasha looked away, the pit of her stomach squirming uncomfortably. Part of her wanted to ignore what was going on with her, what she was becoming, but denying it wouldn’t make her human again. It’d just blind her to what was happening, like the compelling. Was using her powers, like the Twisting, making her worse?

Was she really doing everything she could to maintain her humanity?

(Worse yet, was Sasha really all that worried about what humanity she may have already given up for the abilities she has?)

“Can we get your number too?” Tim asked when Eldan moved to pass the notepad back to him. 

“Oh, of course! You’re welcome to call whenever you need. I’m always willing to provide any knowledge or leads or references I know to other Keepers.”

“Thank you.” 

Kyle led them back out of the house, and he looked rather sheepish about it.

“I’m sorry. I don’t think I overreacted, really, but Eldan has this habit of expecting me to know things I don’t.” Kyle explained. Tim patted the man’s shoulder.

“‘S all right, my guy. If it makes you feel any better, you were very intimidating with that sword.” Tim assured him.

“Really?”

“No, not at all.” Kyle shoved Tim away, rolling his eyes.

“Good luck with the Corruption.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of an oc-filled chapter, and I'll admit: we have another oc or two entering the fic soon. Don't worry, I promise they're not going to overshadow the Archive crew! Those are still 100% the main characters!  
> Uh, like I've said, all ocs are based off of other things, and in this case Eldan and Kyle are self-indulgently put in here bc they're ocs from a book I've been writing! 
> 
> I made a little playlist for the fic :D [here ya go](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0dIwmTb53X5c5KaNyS1Gmn?si=Dc8yaHciSdiuh1pnBstlEg)
> 
> If you want, you can find me on my tumblr [@browniefox](https://browniefox.tumblr.com/) for my personal blog and [@artful-browniebites](http://artful-browniebites.tumblr.com/) for my art. I've made an [askblog](https://institute-of-the-root.tumblr.com/) for my Hollow Knight x Tma au, so check that out if ya want :)


	20. Chapter 20

“And you’re sure the tarp will keep us safe?”

“I’m… fairly sure.” 

“Is ‘fairly sure’ really as much as a being of the Eye can give me?”

“I’ve told you, it doesn’t always work great on command.” 

Jon lifted one side of the spiderweb table while Holly lifted the other. I had apparently arrived a day or two ago and had been left on the first floor of storage. When Jon had found out, he had been - very understandably, in his own opinion - against leaving it there. He wasn’t entirely sure how the NotThem in the table worked, but he was fairly sure that it could be released by staring into the spiderweb pattern. Presumably, that would mean the table would be okay if left on the first floor with just the tarp Jon had grabbed, but Jon didn’t want to risk it.

He’d been making more of an effort ot stop by Artifact Storage, both because he liked feeling like he was helping them when he Knew something about what they were dealing with and was hopefully able to save one of the team from some pain, and also because it had occurred to him that he didn’t like his relationship with Holly being ‘The Extremely Traumatized Person With a Fucked Up Past I Feed On’, and somehow changing ‘Person’ to ‘Friend’ seemed better. Not that Jon was known for his ability to make friends, but it was worth a shot. 

Together, they moved the dreaded table to the first floor of the storage to the second, keeping the tarp over it the entire time. Jon was very aware that, technically speaking, the table probably didn’t qualify as second-floor material. That was usually for some of the more volatile items, but Jon didn’t want to risk losing somebody else to the NotThem, and Holly had agreed readily enough. They had made it clear that, if they could have their way and the man power/assured not death, they’d move many more items down to the second floor. Perhaps over time, it could be done.

They managed to get it into the second floor with minimal problems, only have to flee the basement when something started to catch fire unexpectedly. It had supposedly been placed down there in such a way that they would be safe, but in all honesty neither Holly nor Jon were all that confident in any kind of safety measures in Artifact Storage. 

“It’s almost like they want people to die here. In all the years of this Institute, has there really never been a system that works with no deaths to those involved.” Holly said, and coming from someone else it might’ve sounded sarcastic. From Holly, however, it was clearly a real point of discussion they had considered before. 

“I wouldn’t doubt it was set up for the express purpose of creating more fear.” Jon sighed, casting a look back at the door to Storage. 

“Mmm.” Holly hummed in agreement. Jon followed Holly back to their desk. Most of the team was there today, sitting at the tables and looking over some of the mundane artifacts. None of them seemed keen to trust Jon, and he didn’t miss how they looked at him out of the sides of their eyes suspiciously. In his ‘past’, Jon’s Archive Assistants and himself hadn’t gotten very close, the trauma leaving scars that made trust hard for Jon, and that had spread like a disease. The Artifact team, it seemed, had a different approach to the danger, instead drawing together and becoming closer through it all. “Are you up for helping out again today?”

“I would, but most of my assistants are out today. Leaving the archive so ill-staffed feels… wrong.” Jon didn’t know how to describe the way it turned his stomach to think that there was only one person down there, that the other two were out in possible danger, that only one was maintaining his archives. Holly nodded like they understood what Jon was trying to say, but Jon highly doubted it.

“That’s alright. I’ll see you again soon.” 

“Actually, I had something I wanted to ask you first.” Jon corrected. He’d almost forgotten, had meant to ask it earlier, “Have you ever tried to quit?”

“Quit?” Holly repeated, blinking in surprise and then pausing as they considered the question, “No, I don’t think I have. I’m sure you haven’t forgotten how invested I have become in this job.” 

“No, of course not, but I can’t imagine your resolve has never wavered.” Jon pressed.

“I’ll admit, there have been several times where I’ve considered it, but I’ve nerve gotten as far as writing up my resignation. Although, I do think I have an idea what you’re talking about. Nobody ever seems to quit or be fired from Artifact Storage, they either get out through transfer or injury.” Holly provided and Jon noddedly slowly and thoughtfully. That was somewhere to start at least. 

“Thank you. I’ll be here for the next shipment.” Jon promised. 

“As will I.” Holly said, and the corner of their mouth ticked up in a slight smile.

The walk back to the archive, through the halls with all the portraits and unsubtle eye-motif ridden walls, never got any better. Ever since Jon had been making his efforts to visit Holly in their office more as well as both leaving and arriving to work through the front doors, he’d realized that Elias loved to keep an uncomfortably close eye on him whenever he could. Just as much as the archives were assuredly Jon’s territory, the rest of the Institute remained under the intense Watch of the Watcher. 

The weight of it ebbed away as Jon descended back down to the archives and he sighed in relief, refilling the space. There was only one person of note to watch down there today, only Martin sitting at his desk, searching up leads on his computer.

“You know, I would have liked to go out too.” Martin mumbled morosely to himself. Jon couldn’t help but to chuckle. Yes, he had to admit that even for him, an avatar who fed off of the statements down here, who considered this place a home of sorts, spending so much time in the archives could really wear at someone. The nice thing about follow-ups was that it gave a reason to be out of there and being paid at the same time. Usually, there was some kind of effort to spread them out so that the archives weren’t as empty as they were today - it really didn’t take much more than two people leaving at once. 

Could Jon ask for more assistants? The thought had never occurred to him before now. He thought about the Storage team, more than twice the size of the archive one and so close. But no, Jon couldn’t do that, he couldn’t trap another person down here. And… well, he wasn’t sure he wanted to expand to more than the people he trusted, even if their own trust in him was probably rather limited. 

Speaking of his own assistants, Jon should probably check up on them. They were probably fine, and yet there had been something weird about them when they’d talked about going out…

“Oh, Jon, back already?” 

Jon blinked, not having realized he’d reached the main office. Martin was looking at him expectantly.

“Yes. It was just a quick little chore. Holly was able to help out and we had it finished quickly.” Jon explained. 

“And… you’re okay? Like, nothing in Artifact Storage ate your soul or anything?” Martin asked and Jon smiled at the honest worry Martin displayed. 

“Holly was more than capable of making sure we were safe. And, well, you’ve seen that I have a few ways to deal with monsters.” Jon reminded Martin. 

“R-right, yes.” Martin nodded. 

“And you yourself too.” Jon added. It seemed like he’d forgotten at some point over the past few months just how remarkably quickly and well Martin had adapted to the horror of their situation the first time. Or at least, how quickly he’d started to prepare for the danger that always lurked. And this Martin had as well, without Jon even realizing it. It was comforting to know that Martin was still the reliable Martin Jon had fallen in love with. 

Who Jon was already falling in love with again. Because it was an again. It would be different this time, however it turned out between them. This was not the man Jon had spent that blissful time in Daisy’s cabin with. It was also not the man that Jon had made snide remarks and comments to so many years ago. This was a different man who Jon was getting to know. When had Martin fallen in love with Jon? Was he already in love, or had Jon derailed that somewhere along the line?

He hoped he hadn’t. 

“Well, I just, it doesn’t hurt to be ready.” Martin said decisively and Jon smiled.

“No, it does not. Although I’ll admit, I had hoped one of you would need to be ready to deal with the worms.” Jon found himself sitting down at Tim’s desk. 

“I don’t think anybody had expected them to start living down in the tunnels like that.” Martin tried to assure Jon.

“Well…” Jon bit his lip. He could tell Martin, right here… but no, he couldn’t. Elias was keeping a close eye, and that undoubtedly extended to his assistants.

“Wait, you knew?” Martin sat forward, the shock evident on his face. 

“I… did, yes. I used to use the tunnels to come and go from work, so I noticed when they started to become increasingly wormy. I had plans to lure Prentiss into the Institute and take care of her when nobody was around, but I was waiting for the new sprinkler system to be installed, which unfortunately didn’t happen until during our two weeks of quarantine.” Jon sighed. It had been a fairly good plan, in his personal opinion. One of the smarter ones. He’d already known it would work too!

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Martin groaned, holding his head in his hands.

“I had meant to! Well, I had meant to tell you not to go into the tunnels, at least. I hadn’t planned on telling you my plan. I figured you would have wanted to stay and help out.” Jon further explained.

“We could have helped!” Martin exclaimed.

“You would’ve put yourself in danger.”

“Like you weren’t?”

“I would have been fine.”

“How do you know?!” Martin asked, and Jon kept silent. He, well, he’d just been sure in his cockroach-like abilities to pull through anything. Martin seemed to take it as guilt of some kind, sighing and shaking his head, “We would have helped. That’s what friends do for each other.”

Oh.

When had Jon last heart any of them call him a friend?

Jon considered them his friends, perhaps the best friends he had in years, but he had told himself he’d be fine it the feeling wasn’t mutual. 

“I… yes, I should have told you three.” Jon admitted. 

“And you will tell us about plans in the future.” Martin insisted. Jon couldn’t help but to smiled at that.

“Yes, if I make any plans that might endanger my life, I’ll tell you. I promise you won’t have to worry about me for now, though, all I have planned is statement-recording and some mundane research into the Institute.” Jon promised. 

“Good.”

oOo

Keeping Jon occupied, as it turned out, wasn’t that bad of a job. 

The day had started slow and boring, as Jon had rushed, said hi to Martin, and then rushed back out saying he had to talk with Holly. 

After he’d come back, Martin had started up a conversation that had gone fairly well. For a moment he thought he might have overstepped some unsaid boundary when he’d called Jon a friend, worried shocked silence that had followed meant something bad, but then there’d been a darker-color to Jon’s face as he’d admitted that maybe he should have confided his dangerous plans in his assistants. 

Huh. Jon was really cute when he blushed. 

Jon had gone into hsi office soon after that, which was for the best as Martin found himself blushing when he couldn’t stop thinking about Jon’s blushing. Jon had looked  _ really  _ cute when he was blushing. Hopefully Jon wasn’t Seeing him right now or whatever.

Once Martin’s face had hopefully returned to his normal shade, he realized he probably needed to keep Jon’s attention for longer than that. Sasha and Tim had promised to text when they were done. Considering Martin had no clue when they arrived at where Kyle Paulson currently lived, he sort of needed to just occupy Jon for an indeterminate amount of time. 

“Jon?” Martin knocked on the door and pushed it open. 

Jon looked from the papers on his desk. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, eyes scrunching up. He looked a bit tired, and Martin was reminded he hadn’t brought Jon a cup of tea yet. He’d have to fix that. 

“Yes Martin?”

“Well, I don’ t know if you’re busy, but, uh, you know those tapes that appear…?” 

“Have they been appearing in your apartment? I’ve tried to keep them from doing that, I really have, but I don’t always have control over where and when they appear.” Jon apologized.

“No, I just, you said we could take the ones that are ours, right?”

“Oh! Yes, yes of course you can! I don’t have all of them here; some have disappeared - presumably when their information is no longer current or useful - and some I’ve just thrown away completely to make room for more, but you’re more than welcome to grab any.” Jon pushed away from his desk and walked over to the filing cabinets that covered one wall of the room. He tapped three of them and opened the bottom most of the three to reveal neat and orderly stacks of black cassette tapes. They were all labeled in Jon’s own handwriting, but didn’t give away much of their contents. They mostly said a name, location, and date. 

“It is alright if I take Tim and Sasha’s too? I know they’ve been meaning to grab them.” 

“Of course, just so long as they get back to them. I don’t think you’d take them for yourself, but I, well, I can’t see it ending too well if you end up taking a recording one of them would prefer to keep private.” Jon reminded him.

Martin set to work sorting through the tapes. There were a lot of them. He’d noticed some of these appear, but most of them he had no idea what they could be about. Surely most of them were filled with boring sounds, like Martin snoring in his sleep or the sound of him making dinner. 

It was a lot to go through, but after a few minutes Jon put his work aside again and sat down on the other side of the cabinet to help Martin pick through the tapes.

Later, they shared a cup of tea in the breakroom, Jon reminiscing over Uni after Sneaks tried to eat his lunch and he’d mentioned his cat, the Admiral, who he had ‘visiting rights’ to. 

The rest of the day Martin spent having Jon help him with research with his current statements after admitting he was never sure if he was doing it right.

A good day, all things considered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did warn that chapters were going to be slower coming lol. This one got put off bc i missed a train (and when i usually write for the fic) and I also decided to take some of that time to write a one-shot: [Artifact of the Dark](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26399824)! It's the second statement that Holly gave Jon and gives a little more background on them.
> 
> This chapter's a little short, I know, but hey at least it has jmart lol. Next chapter will hopefully be longer and once again space between both Jon and Sasha's stories, although we'll see if Sasha steals the spotlight again or not. 
> 
> I made a little playlist for the fic :D [here ya go](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0dIwmTb53X5c5KaNyS1Gmn?si=Dc8yaHciSdiuh1pnBstlEg)
> 
> If you want, you can find me on my tumblr [@browniefox](https://browniefox.tumblr.com/) for my personal blog and [@artful-browniebites](http://artful-browniebites.tumblr.com/) for my art. I've made an [askblog](https://institute-of-the-root.tumblr.com/) for my Hollow Knight x Tma au, so check that out if ya want :)


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